


Two Years, Two Months, and Twenty-Eight Days

by kyluxtrashcompactor, PalenDrome (nerdherderette), PangolinPirate



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Digital Art, Embedded Images, Emotional Hurt, Explicit Sexual Content, Falling In Love, M/M, Redemption, References to Addiction, Second Chances, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-02-09 00:09:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 89,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12876009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyluxtrashcompactor/pseuds/kyluxtrashcompactor, https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdherderette/pseuds/PalenDrome, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PangolinPirate/pseuds/PangolinPirate
Summary: It took less than twenty-four hours after they met to know that they were meant for each other. But it will take longer than that to get it right.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> (*Please see end notes; additional artist contributions will also be noted in the individual chapters in which their work appears)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Second chances are not given to make things right, but are given to prove that we could be better even after we fall._ ~Unknown

There’s something about the first moments of awakening, when you’re caught between the fantasy of dream and the reality of waking life, where you have to make the decision to sleep or rise. It’s where Hux remains perched on a Friday morning, hovering quietly on the razorblade of consciousness, until the sounds of a rousing city push him over the edge from fifteen stories below.

A glance at the clock shows that it’s 5:28. Two more minutes until the gritty vocals of Chris Stapleton blare their way out of his speakers, greeting him with their morning kiss. Their rawness may seem incongruous with the sleek greys and soothing beiges of his apartment, but Hux knows that there are times when, cradled between the lines of  _Whiskey and You_ , he has never felt more at home.

He stretches, then swings his long legs out from underneath the sheets. The cotton sateen is as crisp and cool as a set that costs nearly a grand should be, but Hux’s lean and wiry body takes up surprisingly little space in the expanse of his king-sized bed. Twelve steps take him to his yoga mat, two shakes and one readjustment has it perfectly aligned on the floor. Another two steps and he’s switched off those bluesy lyrics that he knows by heart, exchanging them for the ambient noise that’s supposed to transport him out of the urban chaos and into a zen-like state. He sits, back straight, the pressure from the mat and his flitting thoughts slowly trickling into nothingness, save for the steady inhalations and exhalations from his nose.

Fifteen minutes later, and his skin is pounded pink by the shower’s steady stream. The droplets patter against the wall of glass, flattening then oscillating as they start their steady slide. One hovers and clings; it manages to catch the light which streams from the window in just the right way, refracting the whiteness into colorful bows opposite the sun.

Hux turns and greets the stream, his hair turning dark as the air becomes laden with the smell of cedarwood and Clary sage. He has three more minutes to indulge in its heady scent, four before brushing his teeth, and another six before he needs to dress in the neatly-pressed suit that hangs in his impeccably organized closet in its dedicated space. He does a quick calculation in his head as the traces of soap wash off him, the foam whirling several times and disappearing, before gurgling down the drain.

It’s been well over a year. One year, one month and two days, to be exact, since getting clean.

**.~O~.**

“Look what came in today from Skywalker’s Ranch on the North Fork.”

Hux eyed the collection of berries, plump and bursting with color against the bland beige of the molded pulp. “Nice,” he said. He caught a whiff of their sticky, sugary sweetness as the barista passed the container under his nose with a grin. “Nice try,” he amended. “What are you planning to do with them, anyway?”

“I’m not going to pervert them by throwing them into a blender, that’s for sure. Fruit as fresh and pure as this needs to be savored. Maybe toss it with a little honey and basil, and sprinkle it over some granola or quinoa. Want to try?”

“Thanks, Sloane, but not today. I’ll just have my—” Hux stopped as Sloane popped a bistro box on the counter, topped off by the arch of her brow.

“You know, if I wanted attitude, I could just head on over to your competitor down the street.”

“They’re on  _every_ street. And since the hospital lies east instead of west of the 6, I’m assuming that you went out of your way for the food. It’s either that, or the sass.” She leaned forward, her dark eyes sparkling with challenge as she pointed to the neatly wrapped package. “Do you want something to drink with that?”

Hux huffed in mock indignation. Sloane was beautiful, but carried a hard edge. It was a requirement, he was sure, born from the necessity of handling the impatient AM crowd. “It’s not for the customer service, that’s for sure,” he replied, his lips curling into a smirk. “I’ll have the Muleskinner blend, black. Just like I always do.”

“Oh, I know you do,” Sloane said airly. She returned with his coffee, the dark roast fragrant with a trace of berries and spice. Hux took a sip and sighed happily as she rang him up. “I’m just thinking that you’ll surprise me, one of these days. Do something different. Start off with something small, though, so I don’t keel over from the shock.”

Hux watched her pointedly. He headed in the direction of his usual spot at the counter that looked out onto the busy street, before turning deliberately towards the center of the room. Sloane stepped back, her hands clutching at her chest in exaggeration as Hux sank down into one of the overstuffed chairs framing a table clearly meant for two.

It was only after he had laid the slices of his hard-boiled egg over the multigrain bread and separated the mélange of fruit that Hux realized he had woefully miscalculated. In his effort to make his point, he had forgotten to pick up a copy of  _The Times_. He looked back; although Sloane was busy with another customer, her sharp eyes missed nothing, and to head back and retrieve his daily paper from the rack would be an admission of failure he could not permit.

A copy of  _Time Out_ sat on the table next to his, its cover happily unwrinkled and stamped with this week’s date. Hux pilfered it, glancing quickly at the restaurant listings in between his bites of cheese. He skipped over the predictions for the Yankees and the Mets, perusing the lineup for The Governor’s Ball and scanned the movie reviews, until he reached the section simply entitled “Art.”

It’s been awhile since Hux has shown the slightest interest in “Art;” he doesn’t pretend to understand half of what passes for it nowadays, anyway. The thought of meshing chicken wire and candy wrappers with biodegradable waste and then presenting it to the public with a name as pretentious as  _Utopia Kills_ smacks of either a con job or a grandiose delusion. He moves to flip the page, when something catches his attention from under his thumb.

Included with information on their upcoming exhibits are the blurbs for five “Artists to Watch.” Hux’s focus narrows on one in particular; the artist’s face stares out from the glossy page, his black hair dipping below the line of his shoulders, amber eyes shy even as his lush lips spread wide into a cocky grin.

It’s been one year, seven months, and thirteen days since Hux has seen that face, and even longer since he’s seen that grin. Hux’s world begins to tilt, the rest of his breakfast left uneaten as the past he had thought long dormant comes rushing back.


	2. Merry and Bright

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings for a passive mention of an OC suicide attempt and an awkward party featuring bad flirting

Holidays in the city had always struck Hux as a contradiction. The December chill invariably cast a pallor over skyscrapers sheathed in concrete and glass, further cloaking their facades in blues and greys even as their storefronts were decked out in the cheer of reds and greens, and dusted in silver and gold. The trees which lined the sidewalk were brittle ghosts of their florid past, their scrawny limbs strung with white fairy lights in place of their majestic leaves. Even the people were different; they still walked with their heads down and a determined set to their chins, but if one should happen to catch their gaze, chances were that it’s  _‘Happy Holidays,'_ and not a muttered curse, that fell from their lips.

Hux lifted his eyes, taking in the older gentleman who passed by with a secretive smile. He was carrying a glossy, blue bag stuffed with white tissue, and with something that Hux was certain would guarantee a pleasurable evening for the gifter nestled inside.

Hux was grateful that he had no need to resort to such baubles. It wasn’t that he couldn’t afford them, but there were plenty of men in the city who were more than happy to get down on their knees for his charm, money, and classical good looks alone. That well of confidence was further bolstered by the cocktails he’d had at the Sunset Lounge; his blood was warm and his color high as the brutality of the day slipped away, and he had every intention of not going home alone tonight.

The streets narrowed as he made the turn into Tribeca’s Historic District, where pre-war condos outfitted with roof decks and walls of glass gave way to several Revival loft buildings that held painfully tight to their historic past. He slowed as he approached one of the larger warehouses, reaching into his coat pocket to pull out his iPhone as he checked his messages to confirm Phasma’s address. He slipped the phone back and reached for the buzzer just as a couple came barreling out, their cheeks flushed as they huddled against one another to block out the winter chill.

Hux rushed to catch the door before it could click shut, the maneuver placing him directly in front of the girl. His eyes were drawn inexorably to her chest, his unfortunate position granting him a close-up view of a sweater whose crime lay not only in its appalling, acrylic weave, but the fact that there was a smiling reindeer with a pompom nose and actual, jingling bells stitched to its front.

Hux shuddered. There was a reason why holiday sweaters had fallen out of favor. He was fine with them, as long as they remained in the dark recesses of a thrift store. Or shoved next to a box of mothballs, in a never-to-be-opened trunk. Or better yet, fa-la-la’ing for all of eternity in the nearest landfill. He was counting down the days, grateful that there were only eleven left until Christmas, when the assault on his sensibilities would finally be relieved—at least until the following year.

The strains of Florence and the Machine’s  _Last Christmas_ filtered through an open door at the end of the hall, where several people were singing along, a mixture of laughter and light spilling out into the corridor.

“Hey, doc!” A friendly hand clasped his shoulder. “Glad to see that you made it, after all.” Mitaka frowned. “I never thought we’d get out of there in time. Figures—the best party of the year, and we get stuck with the guy who’s bladdered enough to take a flying leap into an oncoming train.”

Hux pressed down the green cap of his stout, the metal caving in as he flipped it off with a practiced flick of his wrist. He took a healthy swig, letting the bready malt simmer on his tongue until its darker, fruity notes followed in the back of his throat, before being left with impression of burnt caramel chasing the weariness of the day away.

“Hmmm,” Hux agreed. “A near kiss of death, it was.” The young man had jumped in front of the Number 7, trading in a body filled with alcohol and benzos for his left arm, his spleen, and a portion of the frontal lobe of his brain in the process. Even after a seven-hour surgery that required nearly half the services of the trauma team, the poor shlub was barely hanging on, hooked up to a propofol drip and kept alive by his vent.

_Happy holidays,_ indeed. Hux wondered how many weeping relatives had shown up at the hospital by this point.

“You were brilliant, as always, doc,” Mitaka continued to gush. “It’s such a pleasure to scrub in with you.” His voice took on a disapproving tone. “What a shame—so young, throwing away his life like that. His blood alcohol content was .24 when he came in.”

Hux merely nodded. He took another sip; the beer somehow tasted more bitter on the second go around, and he resolved to raid Phasma’s kitchen for a decent vodka. Surely she had something with class.

He scanned the growing crowd; there were plenty of people from work, most of whom were dressed in tailored trousers or well-fitting jeans and layered shirts. It was like a pinterest board for casual chic, although Hux knew that everyone was treading the unspoken line between making a right and a lasting impression, for all the wrong reasons.

The door to the loft opened. Hux spied Phasma’s platinum blonde head bobbing eagerly as she waved, towering above most of the crowd. His head swiveled towards the object of her excitement, Mitaka’s chattering and the clinking glasses and muted laughter around him fading into the distance as everything slowed and his focus narrowed on the man who had captured not only Phasma’s attention, but his own as well.

He looked, Hux thought, like he was trying to be two men at once: an anachronism in a pinstripe fedora and black suspenders, accenting a pair of faded jeans and blue-gray t-shirt which sported a bespectacled llama that Hux thought would not have been okay in any century. Perhaps Hux stared too hard at the image the man presented, or perhaps he inspected too closely the broad expanse of chest and that trim waist, because as the newcomer threw an arm around Phasma in greeting, he looked over her shoulder and met Hux’s eyes.

Hux immediately looked away, affecting a renewed interest in the label on his bottle of beer, picking at it with his thumb. The sticky glue beneath stuck to his skin, and Hux rubbed it away with his forefinger. He took another swig, swallowed, and risked another glance toward the door only to see that Phasma was weaving a path through her guests toward Hux, trailing that mesmerizing man behind her.

Phasma leaned over and placed a warm kiss on Hux’s cheek. “So it turns out I had to ply you with fine food and even finer men to get you over here,” she teased. “You work entirely too hard. I’m glad that you came,” she added softly. Her sharp blue eyes noted the direction of Hux’s gaze; she turned toward the object of his scrutiny. “Kylo, these are two of my co-workers, Mitaka and Hux. I have to spend more time in their proximity than I would with any other man, but without them, I’d lose my sanity.”

“Hey, Mitaka. Hux. I’m Kylo.” Kylo stuck out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Kylo,” Hux repeated, trying the syllables on his tongue. He proffered a hand, only belatedly realizing that it was rather chilly from clutching his bottle of beer. “You must be a rather singular man, to brave a New York winter with no coat. Do you run at a higher base temperature than the rest of the human race?”

Kylo laughed, his smile spreading across his face. He placed his hand across his own forehead, before splaying a hand over his heart. Hux watched as Kylo’s fingers wrinkled his shirt, smothering the llama’s face. “I dunno, I think I feel pretty human.” Kylo’s eyes twinkled. “Unless you would like to see for yourself?”

Phasma rolled her eyes and jabbed Kylo with an elbow. “You get straight to the point, don’t you?” While she was speaking to Kylo, her eyes twinkled brightly at Hux.

Kylo shied away from Phasma’s reach. “Never straight,” he said, grinning. “Just forward.”

Hux snorted, one corner of his mouth turning up despite himself. He had no doubt Phasma had engineered the encounter, most likely connected to calling Hux a Grinch and telling him that he needed to get laid.

“On  _that_ note,” Mitaka piped up, both eyebrows lifted. “Who needs a beer? Or three?”

Hux held his bottle out, tilting it in the illumination of winking blue Christmas lights framing the doorway, and found barely two swallows left. “I’ll take one,” he told Mitaka, and in the spirit of graciousness, he glanced at Kylo, their eyes meeting again. There was something so  _clear_ about his gaze, like the way the sky looked after a heavy, cleansing rain.

Kylo’s attention lingered on Hux just long enough that his response was noticeably delayed, and when he looked abruptly to Mitaka at last, as though he’d just registered the question, Hux saw Kylo’s cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink.

“Um… yes,” Kylo said. “Sure. Thanks.”

“Me three,” Phasma called after Mitaka as he crossed to the kitchen, getting a backward wave in response. She turned back to Hux and wrapped an arm around Kylo’s shoulders. “So this kid keeps me company on my five AM run,” she explained.

Kylo smiled, adjusting his hat so that it tipped farther back, exposing the slope of his forehead and twin moles just above his left eyebrow. “It’s just for the free personal training sessions,” he said with a lopsided smile. “I have to try twice as hard to keep up with her.”

Phasma snorted. “Please. Don’t let the puppy dog eyes fool you. Kylo’s a fierce competitor—whether he’s running laps on the promenade or throwing punches in the middle of the ring.”

“Throwing punches?” Mitaka returned, four long necks dangling two to each hand. He held them out, their amber contents sloshing precariously as the glasses clinked against one another. His eyes took in Kylo’s arms, and the strength apparent in his hands. “Do you do mixed martial arts?"

Kylo shook his head. “Boxing,” he replied. “Over at First Order Boxing and Fitness.” He shifted and took a drink; Hux could see the quiet strength in his movement, underlying his loping grace. Kylo’s fingers were long and thick, frequently flexing or punctuating his sentences with a graceful turn in the air. It was as if even their large size was not enough to contain his enthusiasm. Hux frowned; the thought of Kylo’s hands battered and bruised, or stifled by an unfortunate fracture to his metacarpals or the wrist was oddly unsettling.

He huffed into the neck of his beer, took a sip. “It’s a ridiculous, violent sport. Not only is it unnecessarily hard on one’s hands, but there is a risk of permanent brain damage.” Hux’s eyes flicked from Kylo’s hands down the length of his lithe body. “Surely there is some other way you can think of to expel excess energy?” His eyes found their way, slowly, back to Kylo’s, and Hux offered him a coy smile.

Kylo shrugged, a shy grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “It’s not like I’m entering the New York Golden Gloves, or anything; I spar for fun. And there are head injuries in other sports: hockey, football, soccer. Et cetera, et cetera.” He leaned back against the counter, cocking his hip. “I like matching wits with my opponent, seeing who can outlast the other. As long as I’m using my feet and my hands the way I should, then my head’s pretty safe.”

“They wouldn’t allow you in the Golden Gloves, darling,” Phasma said affectionately, twisting her fingers through the bottom of Kylo’s thick and luxurious locks. “Unfair advantage and all, given all this floof."

Hux gave Kylo’s overlong hair a cursory glance. “Yes, it’s quite a helmet,” he remarked, lifting one eyebrow. He imagined how that hair would feel between his fingers as he tugged Kylo into a hard kiss, and how that sweet bottom lip would fatten between his teeth like a ripe berry.

Hux wrenched his eyes back to Kylo’s face, clearing his throat before another swallow of beer. He was formulating some other crass, thinly veiled pick up line when Mitaka shifted into his personal space, shoulder nudging Hux’s and speaking in a conspiratorial voice: “So I was thinking maybe you might want to get out of here.”

Hux glanced at him, brow wrinkling, and Mitaka hurried on. “I mean, I know you don’t like crowds,” he said. “I have a couple of bottles of wine at my place. A balcony.”

Hux felt Kylo’s eyes on him, as though he were tuning in to Hux’s response to this less than subtle invitation. “I ah… have other engagements, Doph,” Hux lied with a tight smile. He had suspected for a long while that Mitaka harbored some ill-advised passion for him, but Hux was not about to stoke that fire; Hux never slept with anyone he might potentially have to see again, much less work with on a daily basis.

“Oh…” Mitaka said, the syllable still managing to sound cheerful. Mitaka’s mouth remained open, as though he planned to ask Hux about these  _other engagements_ , but he opted for a swig of beer instead.

Hux cleared his throat, turning his attention on Kylo, who appeared to be chewing the inside of his cheek to suppress a smile. Hux refused to engage Kylo’s amusement, however, since that would mean acknowledging that his avoidance of Mitaka’s advance had been rather graceless. Hux wasn’t terribly tactful on the best of days, and even less so with alcohol in his system.

Darting a hand out, Hux caught Kylo’s wrist and lifted it into the space between them, earning a small sound of surprise from Kylo. Sipping his beer almost absently, Hux ran a thumb over the structure of Kylo’s strong bones. “Did you know there are twenty-seven bones in the human hand?” Hux asked Kylo, thumb trailing across the ridges of Kylo’s knuckles. The skin was dry, Hux noted, but warm.

Kylo flexed his fingers experimentally, their size nearly dwarfing Hux’s own hand. He set down his beer and brought it to where their fingers were nearly intertwined, turning Hux’s hand so the palm was face up and observing it with a practiced eye. Hux’s face warmed under the scrutiny as Kylo’s brow furrowed in concentration, taking in the rounded, manicured nails, the smooth, pale, skin and the delicate lengths of his fingers. “So elegant,” Kylo said, so quietly under his breath that Hux thought he may have misheard. Hux’s hand remained steady under Kylo’s perusal. “You could be a hand model.”

“That’s a thing?” Hux asked, raising an eyebrow.

Mitaka let out a snort. “I’m sure there’s a compliment in there somewhere.”

Kylo looked at Mitaka in surprise. “It actually takes skill to be a good hand model.”

“Oh, Hux is  _famous_ for being skilled with his hands,” Phasma sniggered with a wink. “His patients do love him so,” she added, definitely sounding sarcastic. It earned her a cold glance from Hux.

“Are you a doctor like Phasma?” Kylo asked, looking curiously at Hux, not letting go of his hand.

“Only if you consider orthopods doctors. I’m a general surgeon.”

Phasma rolled her eyes. “Please. Just because we use the occasional drill bit and chisel in addition to a forceps and a retractor does not make us any less skilled.” She jerked her thumb towards Hux. “Likes to surround himself with all the young, ego-boosting units, especially in The Pit. And some not-so-young ones,” she added with a pointed look at Mitaka.

“I’m much more adept than Phasma,” Hux said, giving Phasma a good-natured smirk and ignoring her jibe. He flexed his hand in Kylo’s, shamefully enjoying the way he felt small in his grasp, and wondering what else about Kylo was large and pleasant. He slid his hand against Kylo’s calloused palm, preening from the previous compliment; Hux took very good care of himself, used expensive lotions, and treated himself to manicures on a regular basis.

“And what is it that you do?” he mused, brushing the pad of one thumb over an orange stain along the side of Kylo’s hand. Kylo curled his fingers around Hux’s in response to the touch.

“I’m fairly skilled with my hands, as well,” Kylo said, the smoothness of his words belied by the faint pinking of his ears. “I’m actually an—”

“Shit!” Phasma swore as a large crash temporarily overtook the conversation. “Seriously,” she moaned, watching as a couple sidestepped the hors d’oeuvres which had spilled from the caterer’s tray and onto the floor before resuming their groping. “Don’t they know there are bathrooms for these kind of things?” She pulled on Mitaka’s hand, dragging him towards the commotion. “Come on, let’s leave these two to their pissing contest on whose hands are more skilled.” She gave Kylo and Hux a cursory wave. “See you guys later. Or maybe not.”

Hux watched her pull a reluctant Mitaka away to leave him alone with Kylo; Phasma, often Hux’s wingwoman, knew Hux’s type well. Turning back to Kylo, he slowly lowered their hands, releasing Kylo’s with a twinge of reluctance, unable not to imagine how they’d feel on his body. “You were saying?” Hux prompted, taking another sip of his beer.

“I’m an artist.” He graced Hux again with an easy smile. “I guess I never grew out of my fondness for drawing and making a mess. Although I’ve graduated from crayons and construction paper cutouts...or at least I’d like to think so.” His hands were settled at his sides; even without a glass in their grasp, or pressed against Hux’s flesh, they looked utterly at ease. “I mostly work in acrylics and oils.”

Hux raised one dubious eyebrow. “And you actually make a living at that? Or are you more of the starving type of artist?” Hux allowed his gaze to drift noticeably down Kylo’s form, appreciating that he appeared anything but malnourished.

Kylo drew himself up even further, the unconscious movement drawing his shirt over the flatness of his stomach and stretching the straps of his suspenders. “No,” he huffed out a laugh. “Not starving, although I guess you could say I’m sometimes mildly hungry? I’m submitting a couple of pieces for a juried exhibition in the spring; if they do well, it could open up a lot of opportunities for me. But even if they didn’t, I couldn’t imagine not creating something with my hands. I’m sure that as a hotshot surgeon, you can understand.” He arched a brow, daring Hux to disagree.

“I’m simply compelled to help my fellow man,” Hux demurred, punctuating the statement with a sly smile. He wouldn’t mention the Alfa Romeo 4C he kept in a parking garage, rarely driven in the city, or call unnecessary attention to the Audemars Piguet gracing his wrist, both of which were decidedly not rewards for altruism.

Kylo smirked. “Mhm. I’m sure that your Upper East Side apartment, delivery service at Citarella’s, and personal shopper at Barney’s are grateful for your dedication.”

Hux wanted to protest, to tell Kylo that his shopper was at Neiman’s, but the warm and mischievous look that flashed in Kylo’s eyes stopped his retort.

Kylo moved a step closer. “I wonder, does your obligation extend to men outside your office as well?” His voice remained steady, yet as Hux watched, Kylo’s Adam’s apple made a tell-tale movement, accompanied by the speeding of the pulse in his neck.

Hux wanted to press his thumb against that thrumming pulse point, but instead gripped the bottle in his hand more tightly, like he was trying to anchor himself to a well of self-control. “It depends… on what kind of help these hypothetical men need.” He looked up into Kylo’s eyes, which were a warm amber, pupils just beginning to dilate. Phasma, it seemed, knew what she was about in bringing the two of them together.

“What if they were feeling thirsty and feverish?” Kylo took one step in, the movement putting him close enough that Hux could see the flare of Kylo’s nostrils as his pupils fattened and his irises thinned. Kylo reached out and wrapped his hand around the long neck of Hux’s bottle; Hux watched as Kylo drew the opening to his mouth, the moisture beading around the edges and wetting those plush lips.

Kylo took a long drink. His head tilted back, baring the lines of his throat. A small sigh of pleasure escaped, causing Hux’s stomach to flip; he tried not to stare as the muscles in Kylo’s neck worked enticingly with each swallow.

Kylo gave Hux a lazy grin, wiping a lingering drop from the corner of his mouth before replacing the bottle in Hux’s hand. “Hypothetically speaking, of course.”

Hux’s gaze lingered too long on Kylo’s lips, feeling his own breathing edge toward shallow. “Well, in that case,” Hux told Kylo, finishing the bottle of beer and setting it on the windowsill behind him, “I would recommended a thorough examination.” He touched his fingers lightly to Kylo’s wrist, tracing the path of delicate veins along the inside of Kylo’s arm to the crook of his elbow, feeling him shiver. “Just to be sure that nothing is amiss, of course.”

“Of course.” Kylo leaned forward; cedarwood and sage scented Hux’s pale, lightly freckled skin, the fine, copper hairs shifting ever-so-slightly upon Kylo’s exhalation. Lips which had wrapped themselves around a shared bottle of ale now came close to nuzzling Hux’s neck. “Although I’m suddenly feeling much more than fine,” he whispered, the words swirling hotly over Hux’s ear.

Hux drew in a shaky breath, catching himself as he started to sway forward. “Then you won’t be needing my services?” Hux brushed the backs of his knuckles along Kylo’s flat belly, hooking a thumb around one suspender. “I was really hoping you'd at least want to show me your… art.” Hux kept his gaze down, fighting a grin at the way this all sounded like the beginning of a bad porn flick.

Kylo grinned as if reading Hux’s thoughts. “I could never turn down free medical care.” Kylo hesitated then, his teasing look swallowed up by something more desperate as Hux tugged further on the suspender’s strap. The sudden movement caused Kylo’s balance to shift, bringing their hips flush. Had he been completely sober, Hux would have made an attempt to summon some shame at his own audacity. They were, after all, in the middle of a crowded room, and likely held the attention of more than one pair of eyes.

As it was, however, that made it all the more appealing. Hux swallowed, throat dry. His hand drifted to Kylo’s chest, sliding up to brush fingertips over the outline of Kylo’s collarbone; Hux could almost hear his own heartbeat above the music, his arousal overlaid by wonder at how quickly he was coming unraveled. “Should we perhaps call a cab? We would want to keep things confidential, of course.”

Kylo shuddered, the thick line of his soft cock pressing deliciously against Hux’s jeans. “We can always go to my place instead. I’m on the fourth floor; I’d have to stop there anyway, if we were to go out. Plus," he said, leaning in to whisper the words against Hux's ear. "I’d love to show you my  _art."_ Kylo stepped back then, his ardor partially replaced by another goofy grin.

This time, Hux did sway forward, involuntarily, as he lost Kylo’s bracing weight. “Lead the way,” he whispered, his lips coming dangerously close to nuzzling Kylo’s neck. He inhaled, breathing in a mixture of pine and licorice and beer. He felt Kylo shudder, that wide, lush smile going slack as Hux steadied his hands on Kylo’s hips. “I suddenly find myself in the mood for making a house call.”

They stumbled toward the door, barely stopping for Hux to grab his coat as Phasma glanced up to catch their hasty exit with a knowing grin. Hux returned the grin and mimed a kiss in her direction as thanks for the lay he was about to enjoy.

They spilled out into the hallway, Hux shrugging into his coat out of habit even though Kylo had said that he was only on the fourth floor; he’d be taking it off again soon enough, if things went as planned. As he straightened the lapel around his warm neck, Hux caught Kylo looking at him, and was momentarily taken aback by his expression. There remained the glow of arousal, but there was something open and curious in his gaze, almost like Kylo was... _fascinated,_ and for some reason that brought a blush to Hux’s cheeks.

Hux cleared his throat, trying not to bristle in response to being made to feel small and bashful like a teenage boy being noticed by his long-time crush for the first time. Christ, he’d only just met this man.

“Fourth floor isn’t getting any closer,” Hux pointed out, taking a step in toward Kylo’s broader shape, lifting a hand suggestively to Kylo’s hip. It was gratifying and heady, the way that Kylo shifted so willingly toward him at just that barest of touches, and Hux couldn’t help imagining how pliant and eager Kylo would be in bed.

“Fourth floor isn’t going to get any closer if you don’t keep your hands to yourself,” Kylo said, his low voice sending a thrill down Hux’s spine, and Hux wanted his lips on that long, pale throat. Wanted to mark it with his teeth.

Hux wrenched his eyes back to Kylo’s face, wanting to brush a thumb across those thick, pretty eyelashes. “I bet I can keep my hands on you all the way to the top of the stairs.”

“Is that so?” Kylo laughed, a resonating, vibrant sound that stuck in Hux’s chest and made him forget for a moment that he was doing nothing but trying to get this overgrown boy into bed. Then both of Kylo’s wide, impossible hands were on Hux’s much narrower hips, crowding him back toward the wall until Hux’s back thumped against it. Hux was breathless as Kylo covered him with his body. “I bet you can’t,” Kylo whispered against the shell of Hux’s ear.

Hux’s whole body erupted in gooseflesh. “You bet I can’t what?” he murmured, turning his face to try to find Kylo’s lips, having very much lost the thread of their verbal exchange.

Kylo’s heat was suddenly torn away, leaving Hux limp against the wall.

“I bet you can’t keep your hands on me all the way to the top,” Kylo sang, grinning, and before Hux’s addled mind could compute that, Kylo bounded off down the hall toward the staircase.

Hux’s breath left him in an incredulous huff, and yet as though drawn by a string, he peeled himself off the wall and followed at a much more sedate pace. He might indeed be led to bed by a nice piece of tail, but he was absolutely not going to chase it at a run.

Kylo stopped on the bottom stair, leaning against the wall with one ankle crossed over the other, hat tilted as he watched Hux. Hux fixed him with a stern glare and tried not to let the smile hovering just on the surface break across his lips.

“You’re childish,” Hux admonished, surprised to hear how steeped in fondness the words came out. He paused just before Kylo, allowing him to have that extra seven inches of superior height for the moment.

Kylo caught Hux’s chin in his fingers and tilted Hux’s head up, stroking one thumb over Hux’s smooth jawline. “And you’re beautiful,” Kylo said.

Hux had heard it all before, everything from platitudes about his pale skin and brilliant red hair to how brilliant and charming he was; he hardly registered such comments now, but something about the way Kylo was looking at him made Hux feel those three words sinking hooks into his soul, like Kylo didn’t mean Hux’s physical appearance at all. It made Hux squirm and tug his chin out of Kylo’s grip. There was no point in finding this man likeable, since Hux had no plans to ever see him again after tonight.

Hux took the first stair, pausing beside Kylo and fixing him with a stare when Kylo only turned to face him, continuing to lean against the wall as though he planned to stay there all night.

“Well?” Hux prompted, then felt his face warm when he realized he sounded impatient to get on with it.

Kylo grinned as though he appreciated Hux’s eagerness, but he still didn’t move. “I’m waiting on you to put your hands on me,” he said, biting his bottom lip.

A bark of laughter escaped Hux, jarring him. He rarely laughed, and when he did it was usually at someone else’s expense. He swiveled on his heel, facing Kylo fully. “Is that so?”

“Well you said…” Kylo began.

“I know what I said,” Hux interrupted, shifting close enough to Kylo that their feet tangled on the stair below and their hips were once more slotted together. Hux started with his hands on Kylo’s outer thighs, tracing the shape of him languidly through his jeans to his tapered waist. Hux hummed with approval as he pressed his thumbs against the solid build under Kylo’s t-shirt, imagining the defined musculature beneath. Kylo’s arms remained at his sides, letting Hux touch, and by the time Hux’s fingers were sliding appreciatively over the swell of Kylo’s broad chest, it rose and fell with shallow breaths. Kylo’s lips were parted, the bottom one glistening as he stared at Hux.

Hux suddenly needed to taste him, and his hands slid up Kylo’s neck to cup his face and pull him down so Hux could take that plump bottom lip into his mouth. Kylo made a small sound and his arms were immediately around Hux, tugging him close and finally leaning forward off the wall to fully envelop him in a searing embrace. It was such a mix of tender and passionate that Hux was instantly intoxicated and lost his control of the kiss, allowing Kylo to guide the way their lips came together, to part Hux’s with his tongue slowly, as though he was intent on savoring him. Kylo’s hands drifted over Hux’s back, fingers trying to find his shape through the coat, and Hux suddenly and desperately needed to get out of it. He could have just shucked it onto to the floor for the sake of feeling Kylo’s hands on his body, but Hux was unwilling to move. Kylo’s lips were so terribly soft, his mouth hot and tasting like hops and peppermints and chocolate, like he lived off beer and candy in his artist’s loft, and Hux loved it.

Kylo had one arm wrapped around Hux’s waist, and Hux found his hands in Kylo’s hair, wanting to feel it between his fingers. He knocked Kylo’s hat askew, and caught at it before it fell, holding it by the brim with one hand while the other threaded through dark, soft locks. Kylo shifted, trying to hold him closer, and the press of Kylo’s thick, half-hard cock rubbing across Hux’s own made Hux gasp, desire a red-hot lance through his belly.

The inelegant noise Hux made was drowned out by the sudden click of a door and the sound of music and voices drifting into the hall. Someone whistled, a protracted cat call that startled Hux and broke their kiss as he snapped his head around to see who had just caught them making out on the staircase like horny teenagers. Hux didn’t recognize the person, thankfully, though he glared at them just the same. It did nothing to dampen their holiday spirits, however, and the couple moved off down the hall with a grin, the door shutting behind them and plunging the hall back into relative silence.

Kylo vibrated with laughter, still holding Hux, though his grip was looser, soft, with one hand making muted circles at the small of Hux’s back. Hux turned back to him, blinking to clear the haze from his eyes, and he couldn’t help a shy smile that felt boyish and out of place on his lips.

“I thought you were going to show me your art,” Hux groused, though there was no chiding behind it.

“Didn’t I just do that?” Kylo asked, eyes wide with mock confusion. “I’ve been told I’m a fantastic kisser.”

Hux rolled his eyes and pulled away, though there was a strange stab of jealousy in his chest at the idea of Kylo kissing anyone else like that. “Did you actually just say that?” Hux asked, straightening his coat and raising an eyebrow at Kylo, who grinned. “That’s probably the worst line I’ve ever heard.”

Kylo moved his hand to Hux’s face, tracing his lips with a paint-stained thumb. “You liked it.”

Hux wasn’t sure if he meant the kiss or the terrible banter, but he was distracted from a retort by the realization that he was still holding Kylo’s hat. He almost moved to replace it on Kylo’s head, but balked when it suddenly felt like an intimate gesture. He held it out instead, clearing his throat.

Kylo plucked it out of his grip and set it with a flourishing spin on Hux’s head instead. Hux tried to flinch away but it was too late and it settled, too large, over his perfectly coiffed hair. He made an indignant sound, but didn’t move to take it off.

“You look good with that,” Kylo told him, fingers tracing the brim of the hat and adjusting it before he brushed the backs of his knuckles gently across Hux’s flushed cheek.

Before Hux could respond, could explain to Kylo that he didn’t wear hats, Kylo found Hux’s hand and threaded their fingers together, taking off up the stairs and pulling Hux after him.

“What are you doing?” Hux complained, giving his hand a half-hearted tug. He didn’t wear hats, and he didn’t hold hands.

Kylo looked back at him with a smile. “Helping you keep your promise,” he said.

It took them perhaps ten minutes to make it up four flights of stairs; Kylo stopped on the second-floor landing and pulled Hux into his arms and kissed him again, and Hux clumsily got Kylo’s shirt untucked and his hand underneath it somewhere between the third floor and the fourth. By the time Kylo paused at a doorway on the top floor, they were both breathless and Hux’s head was swimming.

Kylo had Hux pressed against the door, trying to blindly fit the key into the lock while Hux tongued at his neck and rucked Kylo’s shirt up further. Kylo groaned and dropped his keys when Hux’s thumb traced the trail of coarse hair below his navel.

The keys jingled against the concrete floor, teasing Hux with their melody as Kylo crouched down and grasped blindly for them with a muffled laugh. “Skilled hands,” Hux reminded Kylo, an arch expression on his otherwise flushed face. Kylo managed to get hold of the set on his third try. He looked up at Hux, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he leaned in, his face nuzzling against the inside of Hux’s leg.

“Christ,” Hux groaned, leaning bonelessly against the door but unable to stop the forward thrust of his hips. Kylo grinned, pressing his lips against the soft wool of Hux’s trousers, working his way up Hux's thigh. The placket of his pants was already tenting obscenely, his cock achingly hard; he clenched his hands to prevent himself from grabbing Kylo’s head and grinding against it, although Hux couldn’t help the mewl which escaped his lips as the tip of Kylo’s nose brushed up against his balls.

Disappointment flooded him as Kylo suddenly withdrew. Hux’s green eyes narrowed, indignation seeping through his arousal as Kylo deftly reached around him, finally sliding the key in and giving it a forceful turn. The tumblers clicked open as Kylo pushed, with Hux barely maintaining his balance as they stumbled through the door.

“Fucking tease,” Hux growled, his head buried in Kylo’s neck but not relinquishing his hold.

“Sorry,” Kylo laughed breathlessly. “It’s just that I have to live here, you know. Wouldn’t want to give Ms. Kanata in 4B a heart attack should she step out her door.” He flipped on the light. “Although on second thought, she might just pull up a chair and take in the sights.”

“Exhibitionist,” Hux admonished, finally pulling himself away. His next retort was swallowed as his eyes adjusted to his surroundings and the light.

There’s a feeling when you’re underwater, where everything is muzzy and weightless, before the world bursts into focus as you finally surface. It was the sensation that Hux experienced as bursts of color made their way into his consciousness against the backdrop of a large expanse of windows reflecting the glowing city lights.

Kylo threw his keys into a shallow dish, its edges warped and undulating and reminding Hux of something he might have made in the fifth grade. A set of bookcases leaned against the wall, their shelves dipping in the middle from the weight of the rows of vinyl and well-worn books. Kylo placed a hand on Hux’s shoulder; Hux knew instinctively what he was asking for, and shrugged out of his coat.

Despite its rough edges, Kylo’s loft was strangely welcoming and familiar. There was an unpretentiousness in its openness, so different from the tight lines and sterile sophistication of his own apartment, or even the renovated sleekness of Phasma’s place.

He walked over to the windows and rested his hand against the brick. A couple wandering down the quiet block drew his gaze, their laughter floating up against the rumble of a passing car, and the soft white glow of the moon above the yellow streetlights.

“You have a beautiful place.” He turned around, faltering slightly as he noted Kylo’s observant gaze. “Things of this size are a rarity in Manhattan nowadays—well, unless you’re a Koch or a Knowles.”

“Mmmm,” Kylo agreed, taking a step forward. Hux’s breath hitched, his body preparing to be enveloped by Kylo’s solidity, but Kylo surprised him by taking the spot next to him and turning around to face the interior of the loft. “I’m lucky; I know the owner. He gives me a significant reduction in the rent for helping him around the building.” Kylo slouched down, the movement causing his shoulder to rest in line with Hux’s. “I guess in a way, I’m a bit of a glorified handyman.”

“That’s awfully altruistic of him,” Hux mused, his cynical nature winning over his surprise. He lifted a brow. “Are you sure that’s all he wants from you?”

Kylo laughed, the deep baritone wrapping itself around Hux. “I’m sure. Kaplan’s an artist, like me. Timing is everything—he had several profitable commissions and high profile installations in the 80’s, and was able to purchase several of the lofts in this building before the real estate market in Manhattan really took off. I think he likes the idea of supporting an artist, in his own way; it keeps him connected to his roots.”

Hux hummed knowingly, despite the fact that he was hardly an expert in the ways of artists. He reached for Kylo, hand sliding up the strong lines of his forearm, wanting to pull him close, and Kylo obliged by closing a deliciously large hand over Hux’s hip and guiding them together. Hux couldn’t help appreciating how they fit with one another, and couldn’t help imagining straddling Kylo’s hips in bed.

Kylo dipped his head to brush a gentle kiss to the curve of Hux’s jaw, and then pulled away. “Want something to drink?” he offered, apparently content to take things more slowly than Hux was used to with such liaisons.

Hux was only miffed for a brief moment, then he nodded. “Martini?”

Kylo chuckled. “I have beer, and cheap wine. I’m not quite sophisticated enough for martinis.”

“Wine, then,” Hux said, suppressing a smile.

Hux wandered the apartment while Kylo went to take a bottle down from a shelf, and glasses clinked as Hux perused the misshapen piece of pottery in the entrance. “And what medium do you prefer to work in?” He drew on his limited knowledge of art. “Charcoal? Oils? Glass?” He winced. “Clay?”

“Acrylics. Come see,” Kylo said, appearing once more at Hux’s side and offering Hux a coffee mug liberally filled with a red wine that smelled overly sweet. Hux winced, but took a sip, and then Kylo threaded the fingers of their free hands together as he pulled Hux towards the southwestern corner of the room. His expressive face grew more animated as they neared what Hux assumed was his work station.

An array of canvases leaned against the exposed brick wall, while an unfinished piece sat mounted against a red oak A-frame easel. A large canvas drop cloth was splattered with paint, the blotches of color chaotic on a sea of cream, fascinating in their haphazard beauty.

Kylo stood Hux in front of a larger piece. Abstract in design, it was filled with bold, thick strokes, and filled with a life and energy that seemed to leap off the walls. Hux stepped forward, then leaned back, the colors sweeping beyond the surface of consciousness and logic. There was an honesty in the roughness of Kylo’s art, exuding an unfiltered emotion that stirred something within the depths of Hux’s soul.

“What do you see?” Kylo’s warm breath huffed against Hux’s skin, his thick arms wrapping around Hux’s waist and chin resting in the crook of Hux’s shoulder.

“I—” Hux swallowed thickly, his nerves alight with Kylo’s physical presence and the emotional impact of his art. “I’m not much of a connoisseur,” he admitted. He took a deep breath. “All I know is that it makes me feel on the edge. But in a good way; as if it’s pushing me to be alive.”

Kylo nodded, pleased. “It’s titled  _'Force;'_ I wanted to depict something that was as natural as breathing the air, but which could also be cultivated. A representative of our material energy—our  _Qi."_

“Yes,” Hux whispered, leaning back against the security of Kylo’s well-muscled chest as Kylo’s soft lips nuzzled along his neck. “And the one to the right of it?”

“You tell me,” Kylo teased.

Hux stared at the tiny canvas. The brushstrokes seemed more controlled, less free than the previous painting, with a touch of realism; he could make out the outline of a boy, his back against the sun, his face turned towards a night sky filled with the kaleidoscope of the Northern Lights. The mix of abstract strokes and realism created a friction within Hux, reminding him of a figure that was torn, caught between two differing worlds. It was not as sophisticated as the first painting, but filled with an overwhelming truth that was just as strong.

“The boy. Is it—?”

“Yeah. It’s me. It’s the first painting I did when I came to New York.” Kylo stepped back reluctantly and picked up a pochade box from the floor. “I wanted to do something for myself, to make it on my own. I—” he hesitated, before clamming up. It seemed an unnatural state for him, and Hux knew there was a story there, which perhaps would need to wait for another day.

“Well," Kylo went on, voice hoarse. "I keep it and this box of paints with me to remind me of where I started, and how far I’ve come.”

“Kylo,” Hux whispered, suddenly and unexpectedly touched. He turned around, his face tilting upward as he gripped Kylo’s chin and brought it down for a kiss. He felt the vibration as Kylo gave a soft  _“Oh_ ” in surprise, before Kylo wrapped Hux’s body firmly and gave into the press of Hux’s mouth. Kylo’s gorgeous lips opened, allowing the press of Hux’s tongue as Hux licked and probed, his body heating and hardening with his need. His mind swirled, confused and dazed by the colors and Kylo’s scent, yet there was also a growing suspicion that this might not be his typical one night stand. That what was happening with Kylo might be something  _different_.

As if reading Hux’s thoughts, Kylo broke their kiss. “I want you, Hux. But I also want to do this right.” His lips were hot and wet as he murmured against Hux’s neck. “Let me take you out. On a date. With wine in real glasses and everything,” he added with a grin.

Kylo’s suggestion made Hux’s lips turn down, his first, instant impulse to say no, because Hux did not go on  _dates_. Dates were something only people looking for relationships dabbled in. Something held his tongue, though, and he covered his moment of confusion by taking a long draught of his coffee-cup wine. He winced at the sticky sweetness of it, but tried on a lopsided smile.

“Why bother with real wine glasses when one can drink from a fine vessel like this?” Hux quipped, turning the mug in his hand so that the words stenciled to its side faced them:  _Wake or wake not, there is no try._

“I’ll have you know that’s a collector’s item,” Kylo teased. “As well as my mantra in the morning. Besides, it’s what’s on the inside that counts.” He leaned in, his gaze drawn naturally, it seemed, to the lines of Hux’s reddened lips. “So what do you say?” he asked once more. There was a vulnerability now in Kylo’s eyes which belied his casual grin. “To a date?”

Hux hid in his wine mug again, draining it despite the fact that it was nearly full. He covered his mouth with his wrist and cleared his throat at the acidic taste, then set it haphazardly at the edge of a nearby table amidst bottles of paint. Then he wrapped his arms around Kylo’s neck, swaying against him in a way that usually got him what he wanted, and kissed him again, suckling at his bottom lip. The kiss tasted like too-sweet red wine this time.

“We were just on a date, weren’t we?” Hux drolled, his usually clipped speech softened at the edges by drink and weariness. Impatiently, he began walking Kylo back toward the bed, his stomach tightening with lust when Kylo allowed himself to be thus coaxed.

Kylo started to respond to Hux’s query, but Hux caught his lips again before the words formed, eliciting only a low hum of frustration or arousal, or both. Kylo’s knees hit the back of the bed, and he dropped down onto it as Hux melted into his lap. They did, indeed, fit together this way quite well.

The mattress dipped underneath their weight, the music fading in and out of the background as Hux adjusted his hips, a shot of triumph breaking through his exhaustion as he felt Kylo’s growing arousal. Kylo groaned, his hands running up and down Hux’s torso, his fingers edging along the waistband of Hux’s trousers as he licked the plummy remnants of the wine from the inside of Hux’s mouth. Everything was suffused in a muted glow—the soft fabric of Kylo’s shirt, the silkiness of his hair, the lushness of his lashes and the sheen of his lips—as they were wrapped in the warmth of the apartment and the sweetness of their kiss.

Hux startled as Kylo let out a playful growl. He flipped Hux over with surprising speed and grace, switching their positions so that Hux was now underneath him. "Turn over," Kylo said, voice throaty, hands on his waist, turning him. Hux obeyed, head swimming, until Kylo straddled his still-clothed hips. Hux lifted his head from the fluffy duvet, the protests dying in his throat as Kylo dipped down to press gentle kisses along the back of his neck as he lifted up the hem of Hux’s shirt.

Kylo ran his palm along the curve of Hux’s back, his hand stilling as Hux stiffened and winced.

“Sorry,” Hux said, shifting slightly to get into a more comfortable position. “We had a complicated case today. I spent seven hours of it standing, hunched under the heat of the OR lights. I'm um. Stiff.”

Kylo snorted and lifted Hux’s shirt higher in response. He ran his fingers along the taut muscles of Hux’s back, finally settling over the area above Hux’s shoulder blades. “Relax,” Kylo murmured. His thumb pressed in gently, as his fingers began to stretch and knead.

Hux made a rather undignified sound somewhere between a groan and a gasp as Kylo’s fingers teased out the knots along his spine; he couldn’t recall the last time anyone had touched him like this, seeking only to give, and not take. His whole body felt warm and his growing erection flagged as he relaxed into the soft duvet.

“You  _are_ rather skilled with your…  _ahh_ … hands,” Hux murmured, stretching his arms languidly above his head, curling one hand around the opposite wrist.

Kylo just hummed in response, fingers working up along the sweep of Hux’s shoulder blades, thumbs pressing into the base of his neck. He seemed to be in no hurry, and he didn’t respond when Hux tried to shift beneath him to roll over, so that they could get on with what they’d come up here for.

“Do you try to seduce all the men that you bring home this way?” Hux asked, his voice muffled and slurred with tiredness. “Because you can consider me seduced already.” The declaration sounded more sleepy than alluring, and Hux almost laughed at himself.

He heard Kylo chuckle, as those large hands rubbed and circled and continued to work their way along his back. Hux felt his muscles loosening, the tension that he was forever holding onto going slack. He closed his eyes and gave in to the sensation, the world melting into a soft, warm grey, the edges splashed with dashes of orange, like lights trying to suffuse his subconscious. Flickering. The last thing he remembered was the comforting warmth of Kylo’s body as Kylo leaned forward, his breath tickling the outer shell of Hux’s ear as Kylo whispered  _“Good.”_

 


	3. Good Morning and Good Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: Lots of adorable flirtation. Also: **NSFW...**  
>     
> Additional artwork by the brilliant [@mad1492](http://mad1492.tumblr.com/) <3

It was the light filtering in through his eyelids that tugged Hux up into consciousness, and he simply lay amidst the sensations of pseudo wakefulness: the cool, soft cotton of the pillow beneath his head, the way the air tickled his foot where he’d thrust it from beneath the comforter in the night, a door closing somewhere in the distance, the lull of a woman’s voice and a child’s melodic laughter.

Hux yawned, feeling rather listless and inclined to simply drift back into sleep. He started to roll over, to turn his cheek to a cooler spot on the pillow, when he registered the weight draped across his torso, pinning the blankets to him and holding him in place.

Panic shot through him, mind reeling from the muzzy aftereffects of the wine he’d had the night before which was now an unpleasant fuzz on his tongue. His eyes snapped open, pierced by blinding sunlight, and he squeezed them shut again with a yelp. Hux struggled, trying to roll away even as the events following Phasma’s party began to take form in his mind. _A seemingly endless ascent up four flights of stairs; Kylo’s hands and lips on him; a coffee mug of wine; splashes of color on canvas; soft music; lying face down on the bed._  

Hux’s leg was only halfway off the bed when a more muscular one followed its course of movement. He turned; his mind fumbled around for excuses that he could use to make a graceful exit, but everything ground to a halt as Kylo looked up at him with sleepy eyes and a gentle, lopsided grin.

“Hey.” Kylo propped himself up on one elbow. He looked deliciously rumpled, half-lidded, shirt wrinkled, and his hair falling in front of his face. He had traded in the llama tee for one that shouted _‘L’art Brut,’_ its loose fit still showcasing a pair of arms that could easily hoist Hux around their owner’s waist. “Morning.”

Hux instantly flushed, running a hand back through his tousled hair, dragging the same hand across his face and feeling the imprint of a pillow crease on his cheek. His fingers fluttered down across his chest, finding his button-down shirt still in place, open at the throat. He rubbed a bare foot up his calf, toes catching the hem of his trousers.

“Did we…” he began, peering at Kylo, but knowing the answer. His body would have felt it, he was sure.

“Did we—?” Kylo teased. He brushed the loose strand of hair off of Hux’s face and tucked it behind his ear.

When Kylo’s fingers grazed the shell, Hux flinched, and pulled back. “I um... should probably get home.”

Kylo’s eyes widened as he caught onto Hux’s growing panic. He lowered his hand and sat up, the movement causing the sheet to slide down and pool around his waist.

“Do you have to?” Kylo asked in an rush. “It’s Saturday; I thought we could get some breakfast, or something.”

It was strangely disconcerting to wake up in a room filled with light, in a bed laden with the type of kitschy, bohemian decor that belonged in the showroom of ABC Carpet, and a handsome man at his side while he remained chastely dressed. Hux’s dalliances often never made it past his apartment door, and on those rare occasions where they did, dawn had found him nude, confused, and feeling more debauched than satisfied beside men whose names he didn’t even know.

The question made Hux suck in an anxious breath. He could make his standard excuse—the unpredictable hours of a surgeon had its benefits, after all—but the words died on his lips, his eyes softening as he took in Kylo’s eager expression. Kylo’s face looked young and vulnerable in the morning light, and there was an artlessness to his behavior that was surprisingly touching.

Hux looked down at his rumpled shirt and wrinkled trousers. “I look a mess,” he said, frowning.

“You look perfect,” Kylo said gently. “We’re not going to the Waldorf. Though if you’d like, feel free to rummage around my closet for something else to wear.” He reached over into the drawer of his nightstand and pulled out an elastic tie, his thick fingers quickly working his dark locks into a surprisingly neat bun.

Hux lifted a brow. “I seriously doubt you’d have anything that would fit me.” Kylo was only several inches taller, but the man was _huge._ Anything tailored would be swimming on him, and Hux shuddered to think of the sartorial disaster he would look like outfitted in one of Kylo’s graphic tees.

“Go as you are. It’s just breakfast. Trust me, it’ll be fun.” Kylo swung a long leg out of bed and came over to Hux’s side, tugging playfully on his arm.

Hux allowed himself to be pulled up, his protests diminishing by the second. He wasn’t scheduled to work this weekend, he _was_ hungry, and Kylo’s enthusiasm was infectious. But what startled him the most was what Kylo had said, and the gut feeling that it was true. It  _did_ sound like fun. As much as Hux remembered what fun was like.

“Fine,” Hux said weakly. He made his way to the bathroom, the small space surprisingly homey despite all the exposed brick and roughly hewn wood. The water ran cold, a shock on his still-sleepy skin. He scrubbed his face, which turned a bright pink under the assault. The droplets clung to the ends of his lashes and the tip of his nose as he stared at his reflection in the captain’s mirror.

He ran a hand through his hair, his thumb tracing over the curve of his temple, the copper strands already threaded in places with a hint of silver. The pads of his fingers fluttered across one high cheekbone toward the corner of his eye. The green of his irises were bright and corners pulled up in amusement, a decided change from the expression he so often wore, as if he were constantly frustrated or had a building headache just waiting to burst through.

Hux exited the bathroom after swishing a liberal amount of toothpaste and Listerine in his mouth, then dusted off his pants and made a half-hearted attempt to straighten out his cuffs and collar, with minimal effect. Kylo threw him his coat with a knowing grin, then grabbed his hand as they stumbled out of the apartment, down the stairs and into the bright, winter sun.

The light downtown seemed brighter, imbuing the day with a false warmth as the wind was bitingly cold. Hux hunkered down, sidling instinctively closer to Kylo as he scanned the street for a cab.

“What do you have to do to get a ride around here?” Hux grumbled, pulling the collar of his coat up as he tucked in his chin. There were few cars around the area at this time of the morning, never mind ones with a TLC plate. He watched as a box truck ambled down the cobblestone street, its suspension groaning with every bump.

Kylo laughed. “You should see how cold it is at five in the morning when Phasma and I go for a run. Hold on, we’re almost there.” He threaded his left arm through the one which Hux clutched to his side and wrapped it around Hux’s waist. Hux couldn’t help the way he stiffened as Kylo drew close. It was one thing to be so demonstrative late at night, especially when one’s had several drinks and is surrounded by good cheer, but another entirely when you’re sober and faced with the light of the day and not much else to shield you from the truth.

They turned the corner and headed several blocks south to Chambers Street. Kylo stood aside to let a woman who was juggling several bags and a phone in her gloved hands pass by, and Hux took the opportunity to slip out of Kylo’s grasp, making a show of reaching for his wallet as they descended down the subway’s steps.

It had been years since Hux had taken the subway, the crowded 6 line and his ungodly hours making car transport de rigueur. He was immediately assaulted by the same, unmistakable feeling that occurred every time he made his way underground—the way the sounds become louder, yet muffled, all at once; the blast of air and heat; the way the fluorescent lights still made it feel somewhat dark; and the earthy, mildew smell. He headed towards one of the vending machines and stared blankly at all the options that lit up its touchscreen.

A hand fell over his wrist. “I’ve got this,” Kylo said, waving his MetroCard. He slid it through the turnstile, walked through, then handed it to Hux.

Hux slid the magnetic strip into the slot. It took two more tries before letting him through. “I’m not usually such a cheap date,” he said with a flush. He gave Kylo back the card, then turned even pinker, once he saw Kylo’s grin and realized what he had said.

They took the Number 2 to Times Square, the low and rumbling quiet of the fairly empty car giving way to frenzied chaos once the train screeched to a halt and the doors slid open with a pleasant chime. The corridors were longer and wider, but the press of the holiday crowd as they converged along with every conceivable train into tourist central lent a frenetic air to the larger space. Kylo towered above most of the throng, navigating the sea of colorful shopping bags and puffer jackets from one walkway to the next, not even bothering to look up at the signage as he pressed forward with the comfortable familiarity borne by one who has done this more times than they could count.

Hux turned his head to briefly admire the mosaicked artwork that adorned the station’s walls, when their progress was halted by the sight of an older man in a thick, woolen jumper. Kylo slowed as the man unfolded a metal chair and sat, slinging a guitar strap over his shoulder.

Hux tugged on Kylo. To Hux, street musicians were part of the normal fabric of the city—as present as the concrete buildings which, while impressive, served more as a backdrop—but his silent entreaty went ignored as Kylo ground to a stop.

The man plucked each string. Their pitch wavered—sometimes high, sometimes low, eventually adjusting to the right note as he began to play. Hux’s eyes widened in surprise; there was a folksy sensuality in his voice, straddling the line between joyful and yearning in a way that was oddly compelling. A larger group had already gathered around them, drawn by the music and his singing, and Hux felt the huff of Kylo’s breath against his hair as Kylo began to hum.

Hux smiled despite himself and Kylo’s slightly off-key tune. “Who is this?” he asked.

“Oh, man. JP Cooper, _Colour Me in Gold_. I fell in love with this song the first time I ever heard it.” Kylo bent his head down, his lips next to Hux’s ear. The words which escaped huffed along the curve of Hux’s neck, tickling the ends of his hair, and causing an unfamiliar warmth to curl deep in his belly.

“The boardwalk, down in Coney Island. It was a beautiful day, the weather just warm enough for people to go out, but not hot enough for the summer crowds. Have you been there before?” Kylo continued as Hux shook his head. “Well, there’s this place where dancers gather, halfway between the Wonder Wheel and the Freak Bar. Sometimes it’s salsa, sometimes it’s house, but there’s usually some kind of dance party going on during the weekend, you know? And all of a sudden, some guy with a guitar gets up...and people turn, and some people laugh, because it’s just him, in the middle of a huge group of people who want to move, not listen to an acoustic set that belongs in some coffee bar. And then the guy quiets everyone, because he starts to sing.”

_“Come take my hand, can we expose; The hideaways, the hidden doors; The stories we believed in_

_The land we both dreamed in, once before... ”_

Hux swallowed. It would be so easy to lean back, to feel the solidity of Kylo’s body against him, the deep baritone of that voice rumbling through his chest inviting and warm. He turned around, the snark leaving his lips before he could stop it.

“Don’t quit your day job.” He wished he could grab onto those words and haul them back as soon as they were out, snatch them from the air before they reached Kylo’s ears. He tried to soften the startled look on Kylo’s face. “I mean, it’s not quite up to Freddie Mercury levels. But I liked it, especially...well, in a Tom Waits kind of way.” Hux watched closely, his thudding heart slowing down to a more natural rate as Kylo flushed, an amused expression on his face as his lips spread into a slow grin.

“You're prickly in the morning, aren't you?” Kylo teased.

Hux exhaled, hating himself a little less. “A bit more than usual,” he admitted, as the woman standing next to him gave him a knowing smile.

“Let’s get some food in you then.” Kylo dug into his pocket and drew out several rumpled bills, threw them into the open guitar case, and headed toward the 7 train.

There was a mad push as the double doors opened, the masses entering and exiting meeting somewhere in the middle, as the cold air which barreled by from an opposing, westbound line mixed with the heat inside. Suitcases, packages, and bulky winter wear often made their way into the space of the neighboring seat, and Hux chose to remain standing next to Kylo, grateful for his gloves as he grasped onto a no-longer-shiny pole.

The car lurched and swayed, and Hux found himself looking up at the rows of advertisements for the latest Tony-nominated play, or down at the rows of boots and sodden footwear that lined the floor beneath the seats, or into the distance at the car behind them, which also lurched and swayed, but several seconds out of sync. He looked back up at the names of the stations, lit up in green, a dot disappearing the further they went along. He did anything he could to keep from focusing on the way Kylo’s body felt every time Hux tipped backwards as the train shifted with each bump, and especially from thinking about the bulge that pressed against him as Hux temporarily lost his balance on a sharp turn, only to be steadied as Kylo placed a firm hand on Hux’s waist, Hux’s legs straddling his muscular thigh.

By the time they ascended the subway steps, Hux was sure that his face was as brightly colored as the placards which decorated the storefronts with their logosyllabic characters and pictures for reflexology services and various wind-up toys.

“Where did you kidnap me to?” Hux asked. It was an assault of color and smells and sounds, made even brighter by the noon sun. Hux was used to the crowded streets, having lived in the city for the better part of ten years, but this was _different_. People didn’t stay in their own lane here, or try to remain conscious of their personal space. Instead, they bustled about, embracing the entropy and the noise, even going as far as to engage Hux with a direct stare or by shoving a paper flyer into his hands hawking some service he couldn’t possibly need.

“Main Street, Flushing,” Kylo said, looking entirely too comfortable walking about despite the activity swarming around him and his large size. “Best dim sum in all of the city, to your right.”

He held open the glass door and signaled “two” with his fingers to the maître d', who smiled at Kylo and led them into a large, banquet styled room, despite the fact that there was already quite a crowd gathered in the front.

“Come here often?” Hux asked.

Kylo laughed. “Often enough. But the reason why we’re being seated ahead of the others is more likely that it’s just the two of us.” They stopped in front of one of the tables, two empty chairs remaining in a table set for eight.

Hux smiled at the group faintly as he sat. “So much for private.” _Or romantic_ , he added as an afterthought.

Kylo sat down next to him, and surreptitiously squeezed Hux’s hand under the table. “If I remember correctly, I promised you _fun.”_ He craned his neck to look at one of the carts that rolled past them, stacked bamboo steamers with a variety of dumplings on top, and larger plates of what looked like fried smelt on the shelf below. The woman slowed once she noticed Kylo’s curious look. She lifted the tops off several of the steamers, and after Kylo nodded his approval on the second one, removed it from the stack and set it in front of them, along with two plates.

“What is it?” Hux looked at the long, translucent objects, which held several distinct, pinkish lumps inside.

“Rice noodle rolls, with shrimp. Don’t be too impressed that I know that though,” Kylo added quickly upon seeing Hux’s look. “It’s not difficult, when you can make out what’s inside. The other dishes can be trickier, but that’s what also makes this whole experience fun. Trying out new things.” He waggled his brow. “And the occasional surprise.”

Hux picked up the red and white paper sleeve beside his plate, extracting a pair of wooden chopsticks. “Surprises leave one open to potential disaster,” he drawled, glancing sidelong at Kylo with a blank facade. He plucked a shrimp roll from the plate and took a bite, frowning at the texture as he chewed.

Kylo took a noodle, dragging it through the sauce that pooled along the bottom before popping it in his mouth. “You’re a doctor, though. Late night studying, post-call, that kind of thing. You’ve never had to make a spontaneous meal, like mac and cheese with some sriracha and beer thrown in?”

Hux paused while trying to maneuver his shrimp roll in his chopsticks so he could dip the side he hadn’t bitten into the sauce, and he blinked at Kylo. “Sriracha and _beer?_ How did you make it through school?” He squinted. “Did you go to school? I mean. I assume you can just have...natural talent.” Not sure if he was dangerously close to putting his foot into his mouth with this question, he put the shrimp roll in it instead.

Kylo laughed, the deeper sound filtering through the clattering of the dishes as the next cart wheeled by. He signaled to the server and picked out two more items which were placed in front of them. Kylo picked up one of the buns, steam rising from the bready covering and exposing the flavorful meat inside.

“You’re choosing for us the next round,” he said with a grin. “And yeah, I did go to school. Spent a couple years at NYU, before I realized that I didn’t necessarily want to be studying art, so much as I wanted to be _making_ it.” He attempted to maneuver a portion of the bun between his chopsticks, the weighty burden tilting from one side to another until he put it down and speared it with the end of a stick. “How about you? Did you always want to be a surgeon?”

Hux shrugged, setting his chopsticks aside and picking up a bun, turning it in his hand and watching the steam waft into the air. His eyes flicked to Kylo. “I always wanted power. Prestige. Not sure I ever wanted to help anyone.” He took a small bite of his food, finding his throat dry as he realized he’d never said that out loud. He struggled to swallow. “The meaning in it...saving lives...that part came later.” He stared at his plate, waiting for Kylo to judge him, and when he didn’t speak, Hux glanced at him again. “Maybe I’m a bad person. I don’t know.”

“You’re just a real person,” Kylo said slowly. “I think it’s better to be honest about who we are, at least with ourselves. But you also said that being a surgeon means something more to you now. And that’s just as important, too.” He chewed thoughtfully. “Is it hard? I mean, I know about the hours, and the skill it takes, and everything. But how do you handle the fact that these are people’s lives that you hold in your hands?” Kylo reached over and poured them both a cup of jasmine tea; Hux watched as several loose leaves floated to the top, circling the rim.

Hux couldn’t tear his eyes away from the tea. He considered tailoring a response that dripped with benevolence and empathy, that made him sound saintly, but he couldn’t conjure the words. “I shut it out,” he admitted, picking up his teacup and blowing across it. “When I’m operating, my patients are simply an organic machine that is malfunctioning, that I have to fix.” He took a sip of tea, wincing when it burned his tongue. “They aren’t really people, until it’s safe for them to be.”

Kylo remained silent for several seconds, his quiet seeming louder than the varied conversations and frenzied activity going on around them. He put down his cup, and when he looked back at Hux, his eyes were thankfully free from judgment.

“You know, when I first started painting, the feedback I received on my work was that it was emotional, but lacked technique. I never wanted to sit in a class and figure out things like brushstrokes and paint thickness and textures, and definitely never wanted to spend my time copying somebody else’s piece; it just seemed so forced and sterile. But I eventually learned that it’s important to have that balance. That you can make art, sometimes even good art, using one or the other. But in order to do something truly great, you have to open yourself up to both.”

Hux smiled, little more than one corner of his lips turning up. “Does the emotion you put into your art keep you up at night if you don’t down a fifth of whiskey?” He glanced at Kylo. “If you don’t get the colors just right, are you haunted by the thought of all the people you let down?”

“I don’t know if I’ve ever gotten the colors ‘just right.’ Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever make something that I’m totally happy with. But then I remember that there’s beauty in imperfection, too. And isn’t that what being human’s all about?”

Hux chewed on his bottom lip, trying to keep a smile from blooming. “Well. If the art career goes belly up, you can always scrape together a living designing inspirational coffee mugs.”

“I thought that getting some food in you would make you less prickly,” Kylo said as he leaned over, his lips quirking into a smile. _“A light heart lives long. Happiness is where we find it, but rarely where we seek it.”_ He reached under the table, his long fingers drifting over the top of Hux’s hand. _“Knowledge of what is possible is the beginning of happiness.”_ Kylo’s smile grew as he gave Hux’s hand a squeeze. “What do you think?”

Hux smirked, extracting his hand from beneath Kylo’s only to run it up along his arm. He gathered a fist full of Kylo’s shirt and pulled him close. “Those are all nice,” he said against Kylo’s lips. “But I was thinking of something more eloquent like _'Hey, hot stuff.'_ ” Hux leaned forward then and pressed his lips to Kylo’s, trying to manage a decent kiss around the laughter that bubbled up between them.

Hux pulled away after only a second, swiping the back of his hand across his mouth as Kylo stared at him with bright eyes full of humor, shoulders still quivering with amusement.

“What?” Hux asked, trying to sound serious and failing. “I thought that was quite clever. The slogan. Not the kiss. That needs some work.”

“Oh, it absolutely was. The slogan, that is,” Kylo agreed, not caring that the family seated at the table with them were now watching the developments with avid interest. “You could probably sell a ton of them. The kisses, however…” He scooted his chair closer to Hux’s, giving the grandmother who couldn’t take her eyes off them an innocent smile before whispering into Hux’s ear, “I don’t mind putting in the effort to ensure a superior product.”

Hux snorted with laughter, even as electricity shivered down his neck at the caress of breath against his ear. “I’m feeling my well-established reputation as a hopeless curmudgeon being irrevocably tarnished by this conversation,” he groused, nudging Kylo’s knee with his own. “We should get out of here before I begin to look like I’m having a good time.”

“You don’t want to stick around for the steamed chicken feet?” Kylo asked, brushing Hux’s cheek with his lips. He stood and tucked ten dollars under the teapot before grabbing the bill, which consisted of an incomprehensible grid covered with rings of orange and blue.

Hux shuddered as he slipped on his coat, his attempt to retrieve the slip of paper thwarted as Kylo weaved his way through the circular tables and harried servers and line of people waiting to be seated until he reached the cashier up front. He had just finished paying the bill and was already putting the change back in his wallet by the time Hux caught up.

“What?” Kylo asked, grinning cheekily at Hux’s irritated look. “I’m the one who asked you to breakfast; if you’re so hell-bent on paying, you’ll have to ask me out.” He held open the door and waved Hux through, his large hand settling familiarly against the curve of Hux’s back as they stepped back out into the sun.

Hux tended to despise it when men did that—put their hand on his back like they were herding him somewhere, or like they owned him—but when Kylo touched him, Hux found himself swaying into the contact rather than away from it. His hip brushed Kylo’s.

“Ask you out, huh?” Hux mused as they walked. It was a concept that had become foreign through disuse. “I think the last time I did that, everyone was using little folded notes that said _‘Check yes or no.’_ ”

They made it halfway down the block before Kylo pushed into Hux, nearly causing Hux to lose his footing as they veered towards one of the tiny storefronts whose window was filled from top to bottom with tchotchkes of every color and dimension. His large size hid Hux from the gazes of those who walked by, allowing them a semblance of privacy as Kylo’s hands slid down to rest comfortably along the sides of Hux’s hips.

“Now about that kiss that needs work. More practice?”

Hux hummed, his palms resting against Kylo’s broad chest. “It does need a lot of work,” he said, tipping his chin up.

Kylo moved in, the end of his nose cold against the red flush of Hux’s cheek, their bodies somehow fitting together despite their excessive layers and the periodic jostling from the crowd. Kylo’s lips were warm and soft, and tasted of the traces of pork glaze and sweet tea as he pressed gently, yet insistently against Hux’s mouth.

The kiss was outwardly chaste, yet it left them both a bit breathless.

“How was that?” Kylo asked.

“Mmmm.” Hux twined his hands in both ends of Kylo’s scarf, giving it a gentle tug. “Not bad. Seven out of ten. Potential to be even better.” Hux pulled Kylo closer, drawing Kylo’s bottom lip between his own, tonguing it. “You taste good, though,” he said, pulling back with a coy smile.

Kylo inhaled sharply, his eyes widening as he nearly moaned. He raised his hand to caress the nape of Hux’s neck and tilted him closer, when the store’s owner suddenly burst out of the door.

Kylo huffed out a soft laugh as he reluctantly separated from Hux. The old man gesticulated wildly, his arms indicating that Kylo and Hux were blocking foot traffic as he gave them an angry glare and barked something in another language.

“C’mon, Hux,” Kylo said, dragging Hux into the shop. “Let’s buy something. It’s the least we can do.”

Hux nearly lost his footing as Kylo grabbed his hand and pulled him into the boutique. The floors were an unfortunate white linoleum, peeling up in places and dingy with footprints and street dust. Cheap shelves were filled with all manner of tawdry trinkets, a riot of colors just barely sublimated by the traditional red and green of Christmas. The entire place smelled of bargain incense, and tinny Indian music spouted from a radio on the register counter.

“This is hardly my kind of store,” Hux informed Kylo, wrinkling his nose when Kylo tugged him down the middle aisle. He thought briefly of shaking Kylo’s hand off, but his palm was warm and Kylo’s grip was gentle.

“Mmm, well maybe I’m not your regular kind of guy,” Kylo teased. He looked like he wanted to tug Hux closer and tease him some more, but opted for keeping a respectable distance under the watchful eye of the storekeeper. He bent down and picked up a snow globe from one of the metal shelves; a replica of the Times Building sat in the middle, along with the marquees of several shows and a banner that read _Merry Chrismas_. “They forgot the _**‘t,’**  _” Kylo laughed, turning it upside down and watching as the fake snow swirled around.

Hux chuckled, bemused. “The sad thing is, someone in quality control probably noticed that as they were shipping out ten thousand of the things and thought _‘Eh, fuck it.’_ ”

Kylo grinned at that, and Hux turned to look at the shelf behind them, still holding Kylo’s hand and trying not to be debilitatingly distracted by the way Kylo’s thumb was making little circles on his skin. Hux spied a nest of red and white pinwheels, and plucked one out. He turned to Kylo, brandishing it at his face. “Here. Blow this.”

A spot of color pinkened Kylo’s cheeks. He hesitated, wetting his lips before pursing them into a perfect _O._ He took a deep breath in, hollowing out his cheeks as he did so, and blew. The plastic vanes rotated slowly, then faster as the air from Kylo’s breath was drawn underneath the red and white curls, which spun faster and faster until there was a steady whir, and the head of the pinwheel turned pink.

“The next time you put something in front of my face, I expect more of a challenge,” Kylo said breathlessly.

Hux burst out laughing, and the pinwheel briefly spun in the other direction. “Oh I think I can handle that, sweetheart,” he said, fitting the pinwheel back in its box on the shelf. He wandered down the aisle then, Kylo keeping pace with him, fingers still twined through Hux’s.

“We have to find something to buy,” Hux reminded Kylo. “Else we’re loitering.”

They rounded the endcap, replete with a display of small, stuffed reindeer mixed with stuffed caricatures of the Statue of Liberty. The next aisle was equally as hopeless, or appeared to be, until Hux spotted something that made him grin.

Hux pulled Kylo a few steps further, and picked up a pink ceramic mug with a rainbow painted on it, smiley faces drawn in a childlike hand inside the fluffy white clouds at each base. He turned it toward Kylo, showing him the words, _“After the rain comes the rainbow.”_

“A charming casualty of good taste,” Hux said, grinning. “Just like wine in a coffee cup.”

Kylo burst out laughing. “Either that, or a casualty of aesthetics. I love it, though,” he gasped in between his breaths, “I’m just torn between wanting to buy it, or considering it stiff competition for my own inspirational quotes business.” He looked around the store at the paper signs, written in black magic marker, that were taped up to the shelves, or placed atop the wire display racks that wobbled and creaked when they were turned. Everything seemed to be priced anywhere from 99 cents to $9.99.

“Okay, we came in here to buy something,” Hux said, thrusting the coffee cup at Kylo’s chest, who grasped it with one hand. “Merry fucking Christmas.”

Kylo looked down, still chuckling even though he was now cradling the mug carefully, as if Hux had handed him the most precious thing in the entire store. “Come with me,” he said as he darted into the next aisle. They passed by a hanging assortment of plastic ornaments, and a display of mittens and hats that seemed more appropriate for the hot weather, given their light weight. Kylo gave them little consideration and nearly turned onto the next aisle, when he suddenly spied an angry-looking elf whose face was sticking halfway out of one of the bins.

He dug it out from underneath the mountain of plushies, his smile growing even wider as he turned the elf around.

“Merry Christmas,” Kylo grinned, waving the toy in front of Hux. The red and white striped legs dangled loosely from the elf’s round body, which had a pin attached to its vest with angry looking letters that read _'This is as Merry as I Get.'_

Hux took the elf, biting his lip and furrowing his brows, thumbing the button on its vest. “You know me better than most people,” he teased, “and we just met.” Impulsively, he leaned forward to kiss Kylo, but stopped just before their lips met, affecting to search over Kylo’s shoulder for the store’s proprietor. “Can we kiss now? Do earnest purchases count?” He waggled the elf in his hand, a tiny bell on its hat jingling.

“Probably not to him.” Kylo glanced over at the proprietor, who looked over in their direction with a wary expression.

They walked sheepishly up to the counter and paid. Kylo could barely contain his eagerness as the clerk who rang them up unfolded several newspapers, wrapped the pink mug carefully in the inky print, and then placed it in a purple plastic bag.

Kylo pulled Hux out of the shop then, careful to lead him away from the door and towards the wall as he moved in for a kiss. The warmth from his breath was visible, the faint clouds of it appearing then disappearing as Kylo drew closer. He tilted Hux’s chin with his hand, his fingers gentle yet needy as he claimed Hux’s lips.

Hux swayed forward into the kiss, reaching up to thread his fingers through Kylo's soft hair. Here he was, thirty-four years old, making a spectacle of himself in public with a cute boy in one hand and a dollar-store elf in the other.

"You realize," Hux murmured when they parted, "that I'm a sure thing. You don't have to spend the entire day trying to charm me." He said it teasingly, nipped Kylo's bottom lip in emphasis. "Unless this is your idea of foreplay?"

“I’m not trying to charm you,” Kylo said, his amber eyes slightly dazed. “I’m just finding it very hard to keep my hands off of you.” His mouth brushed over Hux’s once more, and this time, there was an increased urgency as he chased Hux’s lips. “Besides, you only gave me a seven out of ten. I could use the extra practice.”

Hux felt his cheeks warm, glad for the chilly weather that burnished his ruddy Irish skin. Truthfully, Kylo qualified as much better than a seven, but Hux was not, just yet, about to tell him that. “I’m amenable to assisting you in that endeavor,” he said, “but just so you know, a truly perfect score has never been achieved while fully clothed.” He pressed a kiss to the underside of Kylo’s jaw, below his ear.

Kylo groaned, his flush spreading slowly over the top of his scarf as he tilted into Hux. “Oh fuck,” he grit out as he nearly let go of his bag. “Listen, if you’re going to keep that up, we’d better get out of here, because that shopkeeper’s going to have more to be worried about than us blocking his door.”

“Mmmm,” Hux purred, moving his lips to Kylo’s earlobe, tracing it with his tongue. “So you aren’t afraid of doing it where people can watch? Kinky.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Kylo said with a growl. He placed his hand against Hux’s back and drew Hux close, giving him a fierce squeeze. The woolen weight of his coat did nothing to prevent Hux from feeling Kylo’s growing arousal, or noticing the way in which Kylo’s breath had stuttered while his muscles suddenly tensed. “I’d just prefer to have you all to myself.”

Hux snaked an arm under Kylo’s coat and squeezed his side. “You could have had me this morning. And last night. Maybe even twice last night. Such a lost opportunity.” He set his lips in a disappointed moue.

“You fell asleep on me,” Kylo laughed softly. “I’m not going to make the same mistake twice.” He grabbed Hux’s hand, his long legs eating up the length of the sidewalk with each determined stride as he navigated the streets back to the subway station in half the time it took them to arrive.

They nearly fell over one another as they reached the turnstile, the silver arm unyielding despite their rush. Kylo let Hux go through first, taking the opportunity to press subtly into Hux’s back as he reached over to swipe his MetroCard through the slot of the reader.

Hux moved as the turnstile ratcheted forward, the electronic display pinging as it lit up with the word _‘Go.'_ He looked back Kylo with an amused expression.

“Just making sure you remembered how to walk through,” Kylo answered with a devilish grin.

The subway was even more crowded, filled with weary families worn down by the cold and an excessive amount of holiday cheer. Kylo and Hux squeezed into a space in the very last car, their bodies held upright by the press of the crowd, and further bolstered by Kylo’s back as he rested against the train’s closed doors.

The only good thing that could be said about the sardine can they were wedged inside was that the mass of bodies generated a welcome heat, and it gave Hux an excuse to mold himself back against Kylo. Kylo did not need any encouragement to wrap an arm around Hux, steadying him as the train sped down the tracks, undulating through patches of dark and light, the bodies around them swaying with the motion.

Hux realized that somewhere over the course of the day, he’d managed to relax, and he let himself drift back into Kylo’s embrace; in normal circumstances, having his personal space bubble thus invaded would have given him a panic attack, but having Kylo close felt like having a shield. Finding Kylo’s fingers where they rested against his hip, Hux drew his arm more fully around his waist, tucking the hand beneath his open coat as he shifted back. Hux’s coat was in the way, but he nevertheless made a valiant attempt to rub in the general vicinity of where Kylo’s cock should be. He felt the subtle sway of Kylo's hips matching his own seconds later.

It surprised Hux that this adolescent rutting against one another made his belly flutter like a teenager with a crush. By the time they reached their stop, Hux had to button his coat to hide his arousal as he filed through the door, Kylo moving with him as though they were attached at the hip.

Catching Kylo’s hand and twining their fingers together again happened so organically that Hux barely noticed until after the fact. He forced himself into a casual pace, loath to appear as though he was desperate to get laid. This sort of urgency between them seemed just below the surface, a spark ready to ignite with just the right kind of touch or the right whispered word.

As they spilled out onto the street, Hux threw Kylo a sidelong smirk. “I feel a bit smug about the fact that I only had to go on half a date with you before we ended up on the way back to your place.”

“Actually, it’s been nearly twenty four hours since we first met. And you had me at _‘Hello.'_ ” Kylo juggled the bag holding the mug with his keys, his fingers fumbling with the metal fastenings of the ring as his impatience grew. He punched in his security code, the door finally swinging open as the two of them pushed past the entranceway in a mad rush.

“Not that way,” Kylo said as Hux headed towards the stairs. He brought Hux over to the elevator. The metal doors slid open; it was a large space, befitting the converted warehouse’s roots. Kylo held down the button for the fourth floor, then quickly closed the doors to prevent anyone else from accessing the space as he inserted a key and turned the switch lock to ‘off.’

“The benefits of being a handyman for the building,” he said as he lunged at Hux, pinning him against the wall.

The air left Hux’s lungs in a startled huff as his back hit the wall, the noise turning from surprise to a groan as he grasped Kylo’s hair in both hands, pulling him forward to capture his lips in a needy kiss. Kylo opened for him immediately, his tongue hot against Hux’s, his thigh parting Hux’s legs. Hux’s heart was hammering from the sudden onslaught of adrenaline and oxytocin, and he could only maintain the intensity of their kiss for seconds at a time before he needed air.

“Fuck,” he hissed, quivering fingers dropping to Kylo’s belt, blindly trying to tug it loose while at the same time swaying forward to grind his growing erection against Kylo’s thigh.

“ _Fuck, Hux._ ” Kylo dropped his bag, the weight of it hitting the floor with a thunk and the sound of rustling paper, and thankfully not much else. He braced his arms on either side of Hux, caging him in, before another well-timed drag of Hux’s hardening cock caused Kylo to rock forward, his hips stuttering as he tried to steady himself by placing a possessive hand on Hux’s hip.

Hux tugged the prong from its hole, the leather slipping from the buckle. Kylo’s prick pressed obscenely against the zipper of his denims, its outline long and thick.

“God I want you,” Kylo groaned, the rest of his words muffled as his lips descended onto the crook of Hux’s neck, mouthing the soft skin. The redness bloomed against the pale backdrop, and Hux let out a hiss as Kylo soothed the area with a swipe of his tongue, leaving it slick and wet.

“Yeah?” Hux breathed, the word unsteady. “How bad?” He thumbed open the button of Kylo’s jeans, a slight tug at the hem making the zipper open on its own. Before Kylo could answer his question, Hux took Kylo’s hips in both hands, pushed him back, and then pivoted to press Kylo to the wall of the elevator instead. His thumbs hooked over the hem of Kylo’s jeans and he coaxed them down enough to free his cock. Wrapping a hand around it, Hux buried his face in Kylo’s neck, groaning, before he turned his face up and licked a stripe along Kylo’s jaw. “How’d you know I was a size queen?” he asked, a devilish smile in his voice.

Kylo’s head thunked against the wall, the noises which escaped him increasingly strangled. He moved his hand down, shuddering as he palmed his cock. Its hard length jutted up toward his belly, the tip of it leaking and flushed, his balls heavy.

Hux slapped Kylo’s hand away as Kylo let out a needy whine.

“Be a good boy,” Hux purred, nipping at Kylo’s neck softly as he gave his cock a few languid strokes. At any other time, in any other encounter such as this, it would have been Kylo sinking to his knees at Hux’s feet, but Hux wanted him this way. Wanted Kylo to be weak for him.

He pushed the foreskin back to expose the head, drawing it in between his lips and savoring the silken feel of it in his mouth, suckling the salty trace of fluid from the slit and swiping his tongue along the cleft. He felt Kylo’s legs tremble, saw the way the knuckles of one hand were white where they gripped the wall, and Hux hummed with approval when Kylo’s other hand surged forward suddenly to fist in Hux’s hair, just as Hux took him fully with practiced ease.

Hux held him there, letting Kylo feel his throat muscles working along his length, letting him feel Hux’s warm breath stirring the soft mass of dark hair at the base of his cock, and then Hux slowly pulled back. He kept only the head in his mouth, tickling it with his tongue as he looked up at Kylo.

Kylo writhed, his fingers threading themselves in the strands of Hux’s hair, his body strung taut as he fought the urge to shove himself deeper into Hux’s throat. He stared at Hux’s mouth, his eyes impossibly wide as Hux’s tongue darted out, licking and swirling until the glans was shiny with Hux’s spit.

“Shit,” Kylo gasped, unable to keep from thrusting his hips. “Your fucking mouth...God, Hux, it’s _obscene_.” His fingers dug deeper into Hux’s hair. “I’m not going to last much longer if you keep this up.” Hux’s lips curled in response, the tip of his tongue swiping once more at the fluid that had gathered at Kylo’s slit.

Hux bobbed his head slowly, keeping his eyes on Kylo, his own skin tingling with arousal at the way Kylo looked thoroughly debauched, hair haphazardly pulled free of his bun and falling about his face, lower lip pink from being bitten against crying out. Hux didn’t care if Kylo lasted now; he wanted to feel him fall apart.

Taking him all the way to the root again, cheeks hollow and spit trickling from the corner of his lips over his chin, Hux reached up with his free hand and dragged his short nails ever so softly against the underside of Kylo’s balls.

Kylo let out a cry as he gave in to the slickness of Hux’s mouth, the feel of Hux’s throat contracting around his length as he fucked into the wet heat. Hux felt the moment Kylo lost control, his ass clenching and balls tightening as his thrusts grew stuttered and uneven, his mouth spouting a string of obscenities and filth.

Hux retreated slightly, the tip of his tongue teasing and circling the head. “Come for me,” he purred. Kylo groaned, the palms of his hands gripping the crook of Hux’s neck in silent entreaty. Two more pumps was all it took for the salty and bitter warmth to spill down Hux’s throat as Hux’s name fell endlessly from Kylo’s lips.

Hux made a low, satisfied sound in his throat at the taste of Kylo’s seed and the way Kylo’s voice made his name a breathless mantra. The vibration around Kylo’s now over-sensitive cock made his whole body quake, one knee bending as though it wanted to buckle beneath him before Kylo caught himself against the wall.

Hux stroked Kylo’s belly, fingernails tickling the hair below his navel as Hux laved every drop of spend from his softening prick. When Hux finally let him go and uncoiled to his feet, Kylo was limp against the elevator wall, glassy-eyed, sweat beading on his forehead. Hux leaned into him, kissing him and letting Kylo taste himself.

Kylo’s body was languid and loose, his tongue eagerly tasting the mixture of musk and spunk and saliva as he licked at the inside of Hux’s mouth. He ran a palm along the top of Hux’s buttocks, his fingers splayed along their curves as he pulled Hux flush and whispered into his ear.

“As much as I want to return the favor, we’d better move this into my apartment before someone calls maintenance,” he breathed. He reached down, a shy smile breaking out over his face as he pulled at the underwear and jeans that lay bunched around his knees.

Hux watched Kylo set his clothes in order, smirking as Kylo buckled his belt, cheeks flushed a pretty pink. Hux reached out and hooked a finger through a belt loop, and gave a playful tug. “You know this is coming off again in about five minutes, right?”

Kylo grinned, wrapping his arm around Hux’s waist as he switched the key to ‘on.’ As it shuddered into motion, Hux leaned into Kylo, looked down to check his watch, and noticed something. Tucked in the front pocket of his coat was the miniature elf Kylo had bought him that afternoon, its small head peeping out.

Hux laughed, calling Kylo’s attention to the elf as he adjusted it in his pocket. “Well,” Hux mused, affecting a somber tone. “There went his innocence.”

Kylo drew Hux close, his shoulders still shaking from his muffled laughter. “Let’s hope he was the only one,” he remarked as he nipped the curve of Hux’s neck. “Because I forgot that the elevator was equipped with that.” He inclined his head toward the upper right corner, where a camera watched the proceedings with an unblinking eye.

Hux turned and saw the camera, not surprised he’d missed it before. With a short bark of laughter, he offered whoever might be on the other side a short bow and blew them a kiss. “Think we could get a copy of that video?” he asked Kylo with a grin. “You know. For posterity.”

Kylo brushed his hand over the tip of the elf’s hat, making the bell jingle. “How about we make another one instead? After all, we still have to get you off.” He made a move as if to draw Hux closer still, but was interrupted as the elevator ground to a halt.

“Let’s go,” Kylo said, removing his hand from where it had rested on Hux’s waist and guiding him through the elevator’s doors.

He was on Hux the second they set foot in the apartment. “Your ass,” he groaned as he reached through the opening of Hux’s coat to palm the curve of Hux’s buttocks. He exhaled slowly as his fingers held fast to the fabric of Hux’s trousers. “It’s been driving me crazy; it’s all I can think about.”

Hux made an undignified noise in response, tried to kiss Kylo, and ended up biting his lip instead. Kylo only grunted and pulled at the sleeve of Hux’s coat; Hux shook it off, only taking his hands off Kylo as long as necessary to let the coat drop to the floor. Kylo’s joined it, and then Hux had his fingers beneath the hem of Kylo’s shirt, pulling it up and over Kylo’s head in a tangle of arms as neither of them wanted to stop touching each other.

“How do you want me?” Hux asked, meaning to sound coy but sounding rather breathless instead. He tried to work the buttons of his shirt with clumsy fingers, inhibited more by the way Kylo was walking him backward with both hands on his ass.

“On me,” Kylo said, his fingers joining Hux’s as they tried to work the buttons through their respective holes. He gave up after a fourth attempt and yanked, the front flying open as the buttons skittered all over the floor.

Kylo stared at Hux’s torso—at its pale, lithe lines; at the hard, pink tips of his nipples; and at the increasing shallowness of his breaths. “Against me,” Kylo breathed. He moved in, pulling at the zipper of Hux’s trousers, the sound of the metallic teeth giving way echoing through the loft as the soft woolen fabric puddled to the ground. Hux kicked the discarded garment out of the way and laced his arms over Kylo’s shoulders, letting out a huff of surprise as Kylo pulled him flush against his chest.

Kylo practically carried Hux for the remaining two steps. “Under me,” he hissed as Hux’s knees hit against the edge of the bed. Hux fell backwards as Kylo followed, his large body looming over Hux’s as Kylo straddled his thighs.

Hux twitched, very nearly hooking a leg over Kylo’s and rolling him over, straddling him, but then Kylo’s mouth was on his neck, tongue hot against his pulse point, and Hux was consumed by the weight of his body, the way Kylo suddenly made him feel _small_.

Hooking his fingers around Kylo’s belt and tugging it open slowly, Hux rolled his hips up teasingly. “So you wanted to film this?” Hux asked, grinning. He unbuttoned Kylo’s pants, tracing the outline of his cock with one finger as he pushed the zipper down. “Your cock in my ass? Me on my knees?”

_“Shhhh,”_ Kylo said, his lips soft and full as he kissed Hux on the mouth, swallowing Hux’s smirk. He rolled his hips, one hand cupping Hux’s face while the other tugged on the margins of his pockets as he attempted to wriggle out of his jeans, but only managing to get them lowered around his thighs. The following tilt of his hips caused Kylo’s prick to drag across Hux’s erection, the thin fabric of their boxers rubbing teasingly along their damp and heated skin, as Kylo hissed in response and Hux let out a sharp and plaintive moan.

“Off,” Hux demanded, the growing urgency causing his voice to pitch into a near whine. He grabbed at the elastic of his underwear, his knuckles bumping against Kylo’s as they met in a jumbled frenzy to bare themselves completely, depositing the remainder of their clothing at the foot of the bed. The slide of Kylo’s uncovered cock against his own caused him to gasp; it wasn’t that long ago that Kylo had shuddered and spilled into Hux’s mouth, yet he was already flushed and swollen, the weight of his erection heavy and heated, its length filling steadily with each thrust.

Hux wrapped his long legs around Kylo’s, his arms around Kylo’s torso, drawing them back together. He needed Kylo’s lips, his weight pressing him down into the mattress, the heat of Kylo’s body lighting him on fire. There was a faint flutter all along Hux’s body, just beneath the skin, something that reminded him of the first time he’d tried this with a boy in high school; he’d been nervous and excited and impatient all at once.

He stroked one hand across Kylo’s shoulder, the muscle bunched from holding himself up by his elbows. The line of his torso was hard, dotted here and there with tiny beauty marks that Hux’s fingers drifted across slowly, mapping them, until the trail led to Kylo’s perfect ass.

“Mmmm,” Hux purred appreciatively, tracing the swell of one cheek with his palm and teasing at the cleft with one finger. “This is quite nice.”

He felt Kylo twitch, and the lips on Hux’s ear broke away in a huff of laughter punctuated by Kylo nipping his neck.

“It is,” he agreed. “But I believe I laid claim to yours first.” Kylo gathered Hux in his arms, his muscles barely straining as he flipped Hux over.

Hux whimpered from the loss, the warmth of Kylo’s body replaced by the rub of the crisp cotton of the duvet against his prick. He shifted, trying to ease the ache as he rutted into the mattress, his frustration growing as Kylo remained silent.

“This is becoming less of a movie and more of a webcam show…” he started, the rest of the snide comment dying on his lips once he saw Kylo’s expression, those amber eyes now wide and dark.

“Fuck, Hux,” Kylo croaked. He shimmied lower onto the bed, his lips kissing a trail down the knobs of Hux’s spine, his hands splaying over Hux’s flanks, ticking along each rib. “Fuck,” he repeated as he cupped each buttock, his fingers digging in, kneading, pulling, separating the pale mounds of flesh decorated with a beautiful smattering of freckles.

Hux pressed his face into the mattress to muffle his whine, lifting his hips instinctively to offer himself up. He stretched his arms languidly above his head, fingers curling into the duvet cover as his mind emptied of all thoughts but how huge Kylo’s hands were, each one enveloping an entire cheek as he spread them like Hux was his own personal display. Hux was pleased with that role, and writhed against the bed, trying to give Kylo a better angle even as he sought some friction on his aching cock, and he was rewarded by feeling the bed dip as Kylo repositioned himself to nibble softly at the crease of his thighs. Kylo’s hot breath ghosted over the underside of Hux’s balls, making the skin tingle, and then Kylo’s tongue traced a teasing stripe along Hux’s cleft, making him flinch.

Hux tried to turn his face down enough to see Kylo, who was obscured by his long, dark hair. “Don’t start what you can’t finish,” Hux told him, almost embarrassed by how reedy his voice sounded. His breath caught in his throat when Kylo looked up at him, eyes hooded beneath thick lashes—he looked almost primal, like some beast that had overpowered Hux in the wild and was now planning to mark him, to claim him as a mate.

“Oh, I intend to,” Kylo said, the words barely intelligible over his throaty growl. He leaned in further and inhaled, the air curling over Hux’s skin, tickling over where Kylo’s tongue had left a wet trail. His large hands pried Hux’s buttocks further apart, exposing that pink and furled pucker, at which point Kylo pursed his lips and blew.

Hux moved forward instinctively, his breaths coming fast and sharp as Kylo began to lick, his tongue darting out, the tip of it flicking around the rim and tracing its shape until it was shiny and wet. Kylo reached out to still Hux’s writhing hips, holding him hostage as he lengthened his strokes, pulling Hux against his mouth as he pushed and probed, burying his face between Hux’s cheeks.

Hux moaned, murmuring a plaintive benediction into the bedding, trying to rock back against Kylo’s lips, greedy for more even from just the barest taste. Every brush of Kylo’s tongue against his rim made him clench, then relax, with pleasure, feeling himself opening to Kylo’s attention. _Christ_ , it had it been so long since anyone had done this—since he’d allowed anyone to do this—to him. Hux’s modus operandi in the bedroom was to get off, as quickly as possible, and get out. But _God_ this felt good. Like he wanted it again, and again.

“Kylo…” Hux rasped, rubbing a foot along Kylo’s side, seeking more points of connection. He wanted _more_ , and Kylo seemed to sense it, because he felt Kylo’s tongue press inside him then, felt how easily his body opened for him, and Hux howled, biting down on his hand to stifle the sound.

Kylo answered with a grunt. He pressed further into Hux, his tongue licking, swirling, sloppy and wet, the noises filthy and unbelievably erotic, as if Kylo couldn’t get enough. Hux spread his legs further and pushed back, whining as Kylo stiffened his tongue and gave one last thrust, the muscle wriggling, widening and stretching and filling him from within.

Kylo leaned back and took a breath, then gently nibbled, his teeth nipping at the puffy and gaping flesh. He looked wild and debauched, his hair a sweaty mess, the elastic tie long gone, lost somewhere within the sheets of the bed. His mouth was swollen, cherry-stained and wet, and his chin was shadowed by a hint of stubble and shiny with spit.

“I need to fuck you,” he gasped. “God, Hux, let me fuck you. Please.”

“You can do whatever you want to me,” Hux hissed, groping behind him for Kylo’s hand, wanting to pull him down on top of him, feel his weight as Kylo fucked into him. “I needed you to fuck me yesterday.” He tried to twist around to see Kylo, but preferred to be manhandled into the position Kylo wanted him in. He throbbed with that desire—to feel like Kylo’s toy, his possession.

Kylo leaned over, his nipples brushing lightly over Hux’s back as he reached into the nightstand and pulled out several condoms and some lube. He placed the foil packet between his teeth as he separated it from the roll, then flipped open the top of the bottle and squeezed, pouring a generous amount in the palm of his hand.

He tossed the bottle onto the floor and slathered the lube around Hux’s hole. He traced his finger along the puffy rim, pressing gently at first, his impatience getting the better of him as he slipped his index finger in.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he groaned as Hux tried to relax against the intrusion, gently pushing back. Kylo fingered him, sliding deeper as Hux unclenched. A second finger brushed against the sensitive flesh, then joined the first as Kylo pushed in further, his fingers curling and thrusting as he worked on stretching Hux.

Hux’s breathing was shallow as his hips rocked back to meet the thrust of Kylo’s fingers, feeling his touch just shy of his prostate, and trying to angle himself just right. He felt like he was floating, like he could lay here and be pleasured like this all night. And then tomorrow. And the day after that.

The gold foil of the roll of condoms Kylo has tossed on the bed near Hux’s face caught his eye, and Hux reached out with two tingling fingers to pull them closer. That they were XXL was no surprise, but Hux frowned at the number that seemed to be missing. Why the hell did it bother him to think that Kylo had used this same roll of condoms to fuck other men? He almost said something he probably would have regretted when Kylo’s fingers found his sweet spot, and he gasped, hand spasming, and the condoms slipped off the bed onto the floor.

“Yes,” Hux breathed, lifting his hips higher. “Like that.”

Hux arched against those fingers, long and thick, pressing over and over against his prostate as the pleasure grew and sparked.

“You’re so hot like this,” Kylo murmured. He folded himself over Hux, continuing to work his fingers as he marked his neck. “You like that? You want me to put another one in you?” His teeth nipped at the sensitive skin, the color blooming pink then red, before his tongue darted out to soothe the worried flesh.

Hux whined in response. Kylo worked in a third one, its addition causing a slow, aching burn. Kylo waited, then screwed his fingers and slowly drew them in and out, filling Hux up to his knuckles as the lube accentuated each movement with a filthy squelch.

“Enough,” Hux gasped, even as he rolled his hips, trying to get Kylo’s fingers to sweep again over that spot. “Don’t you dare make me come before you fuck me with that gorgeous cock.”

There was a sudden emptiness as Kylo withdrew his fingers, followed by the sound of foil tearing as Kylo took out the condom and rolled it over his prick. Hux sighed, rocking back as he felt the blunt head of Kylo’s cock against his entrance.

“Fuck yes, baby,” he whined, the way he’d just used that word only dimly registering as he felt Kylo breach him, inch by glorious, thick inch. It was just this side of too much, an edge of pain coating the pleasure, but perfect. So perfect.

Hux thrust his hips up, meeting Kylo, who gasped as he slid all the way in.

_“Nnnnngh.”_ Kylo stilled, his thighs tensing as his hips pressed up against Hux’s ass. He gave a slow, experimental thrust, his fingers digging into Hux’s side as he groaned in disbelief.

“No one…ever…” he spluttered, losing all coherency as Hux shifted forward, legs spreading wider and back arching even further to draw Kylo in deep.

“No one ever...ahh... _what? ”_ Hux begged, rolling his hips, wincing at the way Kylo stretched him but loving it, needing it. “Ever felt this good?” He hid his grin in the duvet, knowing he sounded like a bad porn star, but not caring. He pushed against Kylo again, trying to give him the message that he was not a delicate spring flower, and could be fucked, hard.

“No one’s ever taken me like this before. It’s like you were made for me,” Kylo whispered. He responded to Hux’s needy movements, moving slowly at first, drawing his cock out before thrusting back in. Hux’s buttocks jiggled from the force as Kylo’s movements quickened, each purposeful slide away followed by a more desperate push closer as Kylo wrapped his hand around Hux’s leaking cock, his fist moving rapidly along its length as Kylo fucked deeply into him.

Hux whined, one hand trying to find Kylo’s where it was wrapped around him to slow his movements. It was shameful, almost, how close he was to coming, from nothing but a few thrusts and a hand around his dick. “Kylo,” he breathed. “Please…” He meant to say _please, slower_ , but nothing else came out.

“You want this?” Kylo growled, his hand speeding up, thumb flicking over the slit of Hux’s cock and spreading precome all over the tip. He punctuated his words with another kiss against Hux’s neck as their bodies slid over one another, slick with sweat. “I want you to come all over my hand while I fuck you, fuck you and this perfect ass.”

Hux’s breath left him in a shout, and he came, spilling across Kylo’s fist as he pumped him through it, every stroke making Hux’s whole body quiver, his knees shake and threaten to drop him on to the bed. It was all he could do to grind his hips back in a weak, shaken effort to make Kylo join him in his release.

Kylo’s movements slowed. His breaths turned ragged as he wrapped his arm around Hux’s waist, somehow managing to support them both even as his thrusts grew unsteady. Kylo pumped into Hux several more times before he cried out, his body tensing, then shuddering as he came.

Kylo’s hips slowed as he lowered Hux onto the bed, his lips brushing across the curve of Hux’s cheek, his breath gentle against Hux’s hair.

“God, you're beautiful,” he breathed as Hux turned his face, his pink mouth catching the corner of Kylo’s lips. “That was amazing.”

Hux’s cheeks were hot—his whole body was hot, flushed with the residual electricity of his orgasm. He felt limp, in the best way, and he rolled over beneath Kylo, linking a leg over his. “That was worth the dim sum and the awful subway ride,” he said, his voice coming out sated and soft.

“Not awful; fun, remember?” Kylo teased. He gave Hux another kiss, fully on the mouth, slow and sweet and with the barest hint of tongue. When he spoke again, Kylo had given Hux another one of his lopsided grins, but Hux caught a hint of vulnerability and uncertainty in the huskiness of Kylo’s tone.

“I had fun. All of it, not just this. I really liked being with you, Hux...” Kylo’s voice trailed, the unspoken words of _'I hope you did, too'_ lingering between them.

Hux pulled Kylo down with one arm looped around his neck, hiding in the crease of his shoulder. Part of him felt like he should say something flippant like _'How could I not like being with you when you have a dick that size,'_ but it didn’t feel right. He found himself peppering tiny kisses up Kylo’s neck, a thin veneer of sweat making him taste salty. “I…” Hux began, then paused with his lips on Kylo’s earlobe, feeling him nuzzle into his hair, kiss his head. Hux took a deep breath, and jumped over the cliff. “I like you too,” he said.

The early evening hour shaded the wall of windows in a soft grey, the lights of the city somehow muted in the loft’s warm and yellow glow. Hux felt the tension ease from Kylo’s body as Kylo shifted, his long leg pressing in between Hux’s thighs, warm and comfortable as they lay surrounded by a mountain of sheets.

Kylo lifted his head and stared at Hux—at the love bites which peppered his neck, the freckles which dusted his cheeks, and the soft swell of Hux’s well-kissed mouth.

“Stay,” he said. It was an offer and a plea. “If you don’t already have plans, that is. I...we could order in.” Kylo’s thumb brushed against the curve of Hux’s jaw, his lips curving into a generous smile. “We could spend the rest of the night in bed.”

Hux’s belly twisted at that—not just the thought of spending the night in bed, but at the plaintive way Kylo had asked him, like he almost couldn’t bear to part with him. The feeling that stirred in Hux was foreign, but he found himself grasping at it tentatively.

“Only if you promise not to put any clothes on the rest of the night,” he said with a smirk—because he couldn’t be _too_ sentimental.

“How about when they show up with our food? Or I could make something for us here. Ramen noodles. Sardines.” He winked. “Mac and cheese with sriracha.”

Hux groaned and rolled over toward the edge of the bed, squirming half off of it and groping on the floor for his discarded pants. “Again with the mac and cheese with _sriracha?_ That sounds terrible. On second thought, I’m out of here,” he said, pretending that his pants were just a bit too far from his reach.

Kylo’s arms whipped out, quickly drawing Hux back in. “Fine, you win,” he said huffing out a laugh. He grabbed his cellphone and dialed the number for The Leafy Green, surprising Hux with the sophistication of his choices, topped off by a molten chocolate cake.

Kylo grinned as he put the phone down. “Dinner should be here in half an hour. No clothes.” He sat and drew the sheet slowly off Hux. “But you didn’t say anything about bedding,” he added as he made a move to wrap it around his waist.

It was the first time in years, maybe, that Hux had allowed himself to relax with someone else. They lounged together on the bed wrapped in makeshift togas, and true to form, Kylo answered the door that way when their dinner came. They ate in bed, despite Hux’s objections over crumbs, and Kylo fed him cake with a spoon, then kissed the chocolate off his lips.

They started a movie on Kylo’s tablet—something Indie that Hux got bored with quickly. He’d distracted Kylo from it by sneaking beneath the sheets and sucking him off again, taking his time with it because it felt good to make him writhe and it turned Hux on that those soft, breathy moans were for him. He didn’t finish, though, before Kylo threw the bedclothes off and manhandled Hux beneath him, and they fucked again, both of them clinging to each other like they needed to sink inside the others’ flesh so they could feel _everything._

They lay naked in bed after that, talking, every few sentences punctuated by kisses and soft touches. They took a shower together, surprisingly chaste, cramped and intimate, and it left Hux warm inside and out. They fell asleep curled together, a single candle burning on Kylo’s night table. The last thing Hux remembered before he drifted off was looking out the window at the sky, stars obliterated by the lights of the city, like a blanket shrouding them from the wide unknown of a tumultuous universe. He felt safe, and it felt like much longer than twenty-four hours since he’d met Kylo Ren.

**.~O~.**

Hux sighed, the electronic beeping of the anesthetic monitors and the clanging and suction of the surgical instruments still ringing in his head as he closed the door to the trauma suite. He removed his surgical cap; the ginger highlights of his hair appeared a deeper, more coppery red, darkened by his sweat after hours of standing under the OR lights.

He ran his hand through his hair, a half-hearted effort that was additionally thwarted when Phasma came over and ruffled it further, causing it to stand on end.

“Rough Monday, Hux?” she asked with a grin.

“Was in all morning with a code yellow.” He glanced at the computer monitor. “And it’s not even ten.”

“Ah. So, just a typical one, then.” Her blue eyes flashed mischievously. “I hope you at least had a good weekend. I never got a chance to say a proper good-bye when you and Kylo left the party last Friday. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen that boy all weekend, and he stood me up for our Sunday run.”

Hux bemoaned his fair coloring as his neck was suffused with a telltale flush. It was only yesterday that he had stumbled reluctantly out of Kylo’s loft, after a lazy morning spent once again wrapped around each other in bed. The quiet of his own apartment when he returned that afternoon had been a stark contrast, and he wore the hoodie that Kylo had lent him for the remainder of the day, as if its warmth and scent could make the fleeting magic of their weekend last that much longer.

“I promise you, he got plenty of exercise yesterday morning.”

Hux laughed at Phasma’s pointed look. But even as the words left him, there was a flutter in his chest—a nervousness and excitement and unease all at once, at the realization of just how silly and beautiful and amazing Kylo was, and just how much Hux wanted to see him again.

“Hey, Hux?” Hux looked up as Thanisson strode in. “Something came for you while you were in the OR. I signed for you; I hope that’s okay. I put it on your desk.”

“Oooh, what is it?” Phasma asked. “A fruit basket from a family member? Pens from a pharm rep? A subpoena?”

“Keep that up and you won’t get any of it,” Hux retorted. Phasma followed him eagerly, nearly colliding into him as Hux opened his office door, stunned into a standstill at the sight which greeted them. A bouquet of amaryllis, winter jasmine, and stock filled half of his desk, perfuming the office with their delicate fragrance and a riot of warm colors.

Phasma let out a low whistle. “Someone’s smitten.”

Hux swallowed. He plucked the card from where it was tucked into the ribbon of the arrangement, feeling oddly protective of its contents, yet unable to hold off until later. He opened the envelope and read the words contained within as his face warmed even further.

“Well?” Phasma asked.

“Sorry, Phasma. But I think this is one gift that I’m going to keep all to myself.”

His eyes darted down, his hand curling over the card’s edges as his heart skipped a beat and he read the words once more:

 

**_Will you go out with me?  Check yes, or no._ **

 


	4. Cold Feet, Warm Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes it's the fear of falling that makes _"I love you"_ the hardest words to say.

 

The sound of rain pattered against the glass in an irregular staccato, directed by the wind that gusted along the eaves, plaintive in Hux’s ears. The sound _felt_ cold, and Hux could visualize the steel-gray clouds shrouding the city and the way people would be scuttling along the sidewalks in long, dark coats with bowed umbrellas. This had always been Hux’s least favorite time of year—when dependable warmth and sunlight were just as far in the future as the distraction of the holidays was in the past. It made him want to stay in bed all day, his face in a book.

Yawning, Hux stretched on his side, flexing his toes and then shifting one foot behind him, seeking. He found Kylo’s feet, and brought him awake with a yelp that made Hux grin devilishly, even if Kylo couldn’t see it.

“Fuzzy socks,” Kylo grunted. “There’s probably five pairs of them sitting in the drawer. I bought them for a reason, you know.” He turned to face Hux, trapping Hux’s cold feet between the warmth of his legs.

Kylo reached over, his fingers running through Hux’s locks before settling at the nape of his neck. “Morning,” he whispered. Lips, soft and sleepy, brushed lightly against the corner of Hux’s mouth. Kylo lowered his head, the warmth of his breath teasing the curve of Hux’s ear as he shifted against him, slotting their hips together. “Morning,” he repeated with a wide grin.

“Morning,” Hux said, smiling lazily and reaching back to card his hand through Kylo’s tangled hair. He captured Kylo’s fingers then and drew them to his lips, brushing the knuckles with feather-soft kisses. Kylo let him trace the outline of his hand, mapping the familiar territory of long bones and soft skin, the little mole in the webbing between thumb and forefinger, the pale scar on the side of his pinkie. Hux loved Kylo’s hands, and even if he’d never said it out loud, he said it this way, with this ritual that had become Hux’s compulsive habit over the last three months.

Hux turned Kylo’s hand over, pressing lips to the warm palm, and Kylo’s thumb twitched, slid over Hux’s cheek. Then Hux traced the tattoo on Kylo’s inner wrist, dark whorls making up four dancing symbols that Kylo claimed to be numbers in some ancient language Hux had never heard of. _Khmer_. Because Kylo thought it was pretty, and because it spelled out two numbers that Kylo treasured—twelve, and fourteen. December fourteenth, the day they’d met at Phasma’s party.

Hux treasured those numbers too, even if he wasn’t the type to wear his heart on his literal sleeve. He tried to say it, most mornings, with just a touch.

“I think I’d rather stay in bed all day,” Hux murmured, finally tucking Kylo’s arm firmly around him and molding himself into Kylo’s broad shape. Kylo curled around him, radiating heat, and Hux closed his eyes.

“I’d rather you stay in bed all day, too,” Kylo agreed. He rocked against Hux, his prick sliding in the cleft of Hux’s buttocks, present but without any urgency, just languid and slow. “Am I bad for wishing you didn’t have to work? Let Phasma or one of the other docs save some lives.”

“Mmmm,” Hux purred, reaching beneath the covers and stroking his hand down Kylo’s side, coming to rest on his hip to pull them closer together. “I’m rather a singular, irreplaceable commodity. Or weren’t you aware?”

“Yeah, I’m aware.” Kylo rolled Hux over and came to a rest on top of him. The playfulness left his eyes as he caressed Hux’s cheek, the touch soothing despite his calloused skin. “Very much so.” Kylo hesitated, his mouth hanging open as if his next words were stuck, held back by a dry tongue and chapped lips. It seemed to be an increasingly common occurrence, as of late.

Hux draped an arm around Kylo’s neck, leg wrapping around to hook his foot over Kylo’s knee. Hux could see the way Kylo seemed to want to say more, and felt a sharp bundle of nerves coil around his heart, squeezing. This had been happening for weeks now, and Hux had run through a whole list of reasons—from Kylo thinking Hux spent too much time at work when what Kylo needed was someone more present, that Hux spent too many nights at Kylo’s apartment when Kylo needed his space, to Hux being boring and uptight.

Whatever it was, Hux didn’t want to hear it; he wanted things to stay the way they were until they couldn’t, which was the best he thought he could hope for. Avoiding Kylo’s eyes, he dipped his head in and kissed a hard trail down Kylo’s neck. He felt Kylo’s body tense in protest, but Hux kept up the assault, his lips working their way down to Kylo’s chest, his hands kneading insistently against the sides of Kylo’s hips until he felt Kylo shudder and surrender with a sigh.

Kylo hardened further as Hux brought the flat of his hand up to Kylo’s mouth, teasing it open until Kylo responded by licking and wetting his palm. Hux brought his hand down, grasping Kylo’s cock in his hand, rubbing its tip to spread the precome with spit. He stroked, arching forward as Kylo wrapped his larger hand around them both.

They held onto each other as they thrust, their movements growing less coordinated as they jerked each other off, a mixture of skin and sound and sweat. Kylo groaned as he came, his spunk coating the sheets and Hux’s hand, his fist closing firmly around Hux’s prick as Hux came soon after.

Hux groaned, burying his face in Kylo’s neck, inhaling his scent—sweat and clean linen and the lavender shampoo he bought because Hux liked it. Hux kissed his ear, then snaked his hand out from between them and wiped it on the sheets, his fingers sticky.

Kylo let out a huff of mock indignation. “I just cleaned these, you know.” He swiped his hand over the top, leaving a wet trail next to Hux’s. “You just can’t stand the idea of me sleeping in when you have to get up for work,” he laughed.

“See?” Hux drawled, kissing him on the cheek. “You really _get_ me. That’s special.” He grinned, rolling out from under Kylo and sliding out of bed.

Hux showered alone, as Kylo’s bathroom was really too small for the both of them. They’d tried it once, but the end result had been not quite romantic, with Kylo’s lanky limbs knocking product bottles off the side of the tub where they became hazardous obstacles underfoot. The shower curtain had gotten torn from two of its rings when Hux had grabbed it to steady himself, and by the time they’d gotten into a possibly workable position, the hot water went out.

Hux couldn’t help smiling at the memory as he toweled off, opening the medicine cabinet for his dental floss. He paused halfway to swinging it closed again, and stared at the three, narrow glass shelves filled with pieces of both their lives. Hux’s dark orange pharmacy bottle with his Ambien prescription and his supply of Valerian Root sat beside Kylo’s bottle of omega-3 and gummy-vitamins. Hux’s contact case had gone into the cabinet blindly, and was half on top of Kylo’s nail clippers; Hux’s facial scrub and hand cream shared space with a spare bottle of “you never know where you’ll need it” lube. For some reason, there was a paintbrush on the top shelf, sticking out of Hux’s shaving bag. The whole mess looked like it could spill out into the sink with a breath of air.

Hux shut the cabinet slowly, the thought striking him that he spent more time at Kylo’s loft than he did in his own apartment; he couldn’t even remember when the last time he’d checked his mail was.

Kylo padded into the bathroom, interrupting Hux’s train of thought. He put his arms around Hux and nuzzled his neck, inhaling the damp ends of Hux’s hair.

“Mmmm, you smell so clean.”

Hux turned around. “And you smell like sleep and morning breath and sex. And I really have to go,” he added, placing a kiss on the tip of Kylo’s nose.

“When do you think you’ll be back? Maybe we can catch a movie before going out to eat.”

“Shouldn’t be too long; probably be back before noon. I’m not on call for trauma, just rounding and writing notes in the ICU. We should have plenty of time to do something before dinner.” He trailed a finger enticingly along Kylo’s inner thigh. “Like see a movie or...something else.”

Kylo sucked in his breath. “You’d better get going, or else I’m never going to let you leave. Call if anything changes, ‘kay?”

“Count on it.” The last thing Hux remembered as he left the apartment was Kylo bidding him good-bye, wearing nothing else but a blinding grin.

**.~O~.**

By eleven, the rain had tapered to a stop. The clouds still hung heavy over the city sky, thick enough that the sun was working to force its way through, a half-hearted effort that left everything in a strange shade of yellow and grey. Kylo flipped through the movie listings, circling several which he thought may be of interest to Hux.

He flopped down on the bed, his hand lazily scratching his stomach as he checked his emails. Most were solicitations for refinancing or credit cards or sex, which he quickly deleted from his inbox. His attention was captured by the latest one, however: a call to artists for a juried contest and exhibition.

Kylo sat up, then walked to the stack of canvases leaning against the wall. He flipped through the paintings and tried to view them with a critical eye; he wondered whether he should submit a finished work, or whether he could find inspiration somewhere else—somewhere different, someplace new.

Perhaps something to do with Hux. A smile flitted over Kylo’s face as he thought about Hux that morning, his prickly edges softened by the remnants of sleep. Hux was beautiful, but especially in that moment—his pale and lanky limbs splayed across the bed, his lips parted just so; the way the light turned his magnificent hair a fiery copper, and his long lashes a pale gold.

The time dragged, even for a lazy weekend—too long to lay idle, too short to start a new piece or to lose himself in a book. At twelve he jumped at the sound of the buzzer, feeling foolish when he remembered that Hux already had his own key. At one-thirty he called Hux’s cell, leaving a message that said _‘Hey babe, hope your day’s going well. Let me know if you want me to get tickets to the latest Soderbergh film at four.'_ At two he left Hux a text, and at two-thirty, he contemplated leaving another before deciding against it, feeling somehow like an irrational and clingy lover.

At ten past three Hux sauntered in, his hair disheveled, his collar open, his mouth spread wide in a toothsome grin. He threw his coat onto the hook, the metal curve catching on the seam of the shoulder and causing the garment to dangle precariously.

“Hey,” he breathed. “God, I’m glad to be home. Be right back; gotta piss like you wouldn’t believe.”

Kylo stepped forward, his brow furrowed. “Was everything okay? Were you in the OR?” He swallowed, hating the worry which tinged his voice.

Hux stared. “No. I told you this morning; I was covering the SICU.” He ran his hand through his hair, causing it to stick further on end. “Spent the last hour trying to calm down an irate family member because one of the residents forgot to restart their son’s feeds.”

“My poor Armie.” A mischievous look crossed Kylo’s face as he waggled his brow. “Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?” Kylo stepped forward to envelop Hux in a hug. He tilted Hux’s chin and leaned in; Hux’s mouth parted, the green of his eyes reduced to a thin rim surrounding his pupils, his lips slicked with something other than his spit.

Kylo stilled, his worry suddenly spilling over into indignation.

“Where were you, Hux? I’ve been trying to reach you for the past two hours.” He had realized it once he got close—that faint smell of bready yeast and heady malt, overlaid with cigarette smoke and something sour.

Hux’s eyes narrowed. “I stopped off to grab a bite to eat at the NoMad on the way home.”

“Smells like you had more than just a chicken sandwich.”

Hux shrugged. “Also may have had a couple of Belgian sours.” He slid towards Kylo, his mouth parted to nuzzle his neck. “What’s with you, anyway?” he murmured. “I thought you were supposed to be trying to make me feel better.”

Kylo leaned back and placed his hands against Hux’s chest.

“We had plans, Hux. I thought you were going to be home by noon.”

“You’re being ridiculous. It’s only a little after three; there’s still plenty of time to do something. Just let me go to the bathroom and then we’ll head out, okay? Wherever you want. My treat.”

Kylo trembled, remembering the time when he had returned from the store with lunch, only to find Hux halfway into the fridge, cradling a Heineken. _No mac or sriracha,_ Hux had grinned, _But we’ve got the beer_. It was a more common occurrence for Hux to stop somewhere on a Friday night—all those happy hours which were supposed to instill camaraderie with the residents and the ancillary staff—or to come home with the hint of whiskey or brandy on his breath when he worked late and was unable to have dinner together.

“How often do you do this, Hux?”

Hux looked at Kylo, confused. “What? Eat?”

“Jesus, Hux, no. Drink! During the day, whenever you get out of work.”

“There’s such a thing as working lunches and cocktails at brunch. Or did you think that alcohol is something people only drink at night? Besides, it’s not like I keep regular hours; half the time my day is finished when people are just starting to go in.” He shrugged. “Doctors’ hours.”

“You could’ve at least texted me back to let me know where you were. I spent almost the entire afternoon waiting for you.”

Hux’s lips pressed into a thin frown, his gaze turning brittle and mean. “You knew what you were getting into when you started dating a surgeon. Get over yourself, Kylo.”

Kylo stared, shocked into temporary silence. In the three months and ten days they’d been together, Hux had never once spoken to him like that.

“Fuck you, Hux,” he whispered. “It’s still no excuse for being an ass.” He grabbed his coat from the rack, unable to hide the hoarseness in his voice. “I’ve wasted enough time waiting around today. I’m heading out.”

**.~O~.**

Hux watched the door slam while riding a wave of indignation, jaw clenched against calling Kylo back. How could Kylo understand what the responsibility for lives and the fielding of grief on a daily basis did to the human soul? There was little enough balm in the world to soothe wounds like that—God knew sitting on the fucking couch watching Netflix and going to crowded restaurants didn’t help.

Sucking in a lungful of bitter air, Hux crossed to the kitchen space and jerked the refrigerator open with more force than necessary, making the whole appliance wobble. He reached in and pulled out a Stella Artois, then grabbed another for good measure so he didn’t have to get up again once he got comfortable.

He deposited the bottles on the end table beside Kylo’s well-worn couch and slipped into the bathroom to relieve himself. He was washing his hands in the sink when he risked a glance in the mirror.

The light in this room always took on a faint green glow, reflecting off the pistachio tiles, and just now it served to make him appear ill, starkly enough that his stomach turned. He looked like an undead version of himself, more tired and hollow-eyed than he’d been when he left that morning, hair an atrocious mess, eyelids heavy.

Hux frowned, rubbed his damp hands over his face and then wiped them off on his slacks.

He settled onto the couch, toed his shoes off, and kicked them out of his way moodily. Tucking his feet beneath him, he plucked a bottle of beer off the end table and twisted the cap off. He was a flick of the wrist from tossing it on the floor out of spite, but a twinge of embarrassment from the rational part of his brain stayed his hand. He tossed the cap into a painted ceramic bowl Kylo had made that sat in the center of the coffee table, then suddenly decided it didn’t belong there, amidst Kylo’s antique glass marbles, so he took it out again and shoved it in his pocket.

The falsely righteous anger started to drain out of his system with that, and the long swallow of beer he took settled poorly in his belly. Glancing at the door, he replayed the scene that had taken place moments before in which he’d run his boyfriend off into the bitter March evening with harsh words that Kylo didn’t deserve.

Hux pulled his phone out of his pocket, feeling his stomach drop at the _missed call_ notification and the texts he hadn’t answered. He unlocked the phone and read the messages, then listened to Kylo’s voicemail. The cheerful tone of his voice and the enthusiasm for having Hux come home to him hurt now.

“Fuck,” Hux muttered, dropping the phone in his lap and pinching the bridge of his nose. He set the bottle of Stella on the end table blindly, then tapped a message to Kylo:

**_I’m sorry baby. I’m an asshole. Please come home._ **

Hux watched the screen, and saw the tiny checkmark icon beside the text turn green, indicating Kylo had seen the message. There was nothing for a moment, and then the ellipse above the text bar undulated, on and off for several seconds, then stopped. Hux watched for a long moment, but no response appeared.

Hux sighed and set the phone on his knee, fighting back irritation. What was he supposed to do besides apologize? Swallowing half the beer in one sip, he picked up the remote and turned the TV on, sorting through their Netflix browser. At some point, Kylo had made a completely new channel, just for them, which he’d named _Kylux_ , and the only things they accessed there were shows they watched together.

He drained the last of the first bottle and set it aside, contemplated leaving the other, but when he glanced at his phone and saw there was no response from Kylo, he picked the beer up and opened it. Over the next half hour, he flicked through their shows; it was a strange amalgamation of two very different people, like someone had taken bits of their personalities and thrown them into a hat, shaken it, and dumped it out. _Parks and Rec, Trailer Park Boys,_ and _Futurama_ were pasted alongside _The Tudors, House of Cards,_ and _Black Mirror._ The suggestion algorithm seemed to have no idea what to do with them, and Hux sifted through trying to find shows he thought they would like, every description seeming two-dimensional without Kylo’s opinion.

He was just analyzing a show called _The Expanse_ when his phone dinged, a tiny reverberation shuddering through his knee. Hux set his beer aside and picked the cell phone up. There was, finally, a message from Kylo:

**_Good to know after 4 years of medical school you can recognize one._ **

Hux floundered a moment before his eyes flicked up the text he’d sent a half hour earlier, calling himself an asshole. He smirked, and typed a response.

**_You know very well I recognize them, sweetheart._ **

There was a brief moment before the icon turned green. Hux watched as the dots wavered, eventually letting out his breath as they were followed by the text:

**_You’re a dick._ **

Hux smiled, took another swallow of beer and tapped his thumb over the application’s keyboard.

**_I’m always willing to be a dick for you._ **

The response came back before he had a chance to put his phone down:

**_Don’t make promises you can’t keep._ **

**_Never do. Come home._** Hux stared at the message before he hit send, trying to think of something clever, but he couldn’t type what was in his heart, which was _Please, I need you_.

Hux waited, his breath catching in his chest, heart heavy when the screen remained unblinking, his own text occupying the last line. Ten minutes passed, feeling like a hundred as his phone stared back at him, accusing in its silence.

He placed the phone on the table, face down. There was a shuffling at the door, followed by the turn of a key. Kylo entered, and when he lifted his eyes to meet Hux’s gaze, Hux saw that they were red-rimmed and swollen.

Kylo lumbered over, his body folding onto itself as he curled next to Hux, somehow seeming small. “You had me so worried,” he whispered. “Please don’t do it again.”

Hux looked at him, hating the way his eyes were puffy, despising the thought that he’d made him cry. And so flippantly, with no forethought, no real reason. He reached up, tracing Kylo’s cheek with his fingers, outlining his jaw. “I’m sorry.” He leaned in, touched their lips together. “Forgive me?”

Kylo didn’t answer, not verbally at least, but he didn’t flinch as Hux lowered his mouth. The kiss was tentative, barely a brush, which deepened slowly once Hux realized Kylo wasn’t moving away.

Kylo’s cheek was chilly, clammy from the cold outside, and Hux flattened his palm over it as he kissed him, testing the waters with just brief contact. Hux kept his eyes open, while Kylo’s drifted closed, and just as Hux began to relax into the kiss, to deepen it, Kylo sniffed and pulled away, swiping at his nose with the sleeve of his hoodie.

Kylo looked around. Hux watched with a sinking feeling as Kylo’s face slowly changed, the sadness morphing into something more like disappointment as he inhaled. He reached out to grab at the lime green bottle which sat on the table, still cold but opened and partially consumed, a ring of condensation soaking into the wood underneath.

“Hux…” His face scrunched up, the hesitation flickering on his face as if he was trying to find the right words to say.

Hux frowned, plucked the bottle out of his hand and set it on the coffee table instead. “I’m not sure I’m following, Kylo.” He tried to keep the note of irritation out of his tone, and took a breath. “You have a problem with me drinking period or drinking while the sun is out?”

Kylo bit his lip. His hands twisted in his lap and then he shifted, reaching out and touching Hux, as if placating a child.

“C’mon, Hux. I mean, I know you drink. I do too, we met at Phasma’s party, for God’s sake, but...like did you have to today, after work?” His voice took on a note of anger even as his chin wobbled. “You went out and had a drink instead of coming back home. Was that so important, when we already had plans?”

Hux managed to turn his face away before the dark look settled on it, his jaw clenched and eyes narrowed in an expression that always sent his residents running at the hospital. He counted to five before he spoke, a tactic that had been discussed at his last employee evaluation.

“I’m not sure you necessarily want to meet the person I am when I get out of work, Kylo. Especially not on days like today.” Hux remained tense, poised on the edge of the couch, the fingers of one hand curled into a ball. Part of him wanted to pick up his nearly full beer and take a swig out of spite, part of him wanted to spring off the couch and grab his coat and leave. The other part wanted to slump back into Kylo’s arms and just be held.

Kylo moved, his entire body shifting as he wound his arms around Hux and straddled Hux’s thighs, as if wrapping him in a protective embrace.

“I want to be with you...always, not just when we’re watching movies, or antiquing, or spending the entire morning in bed.” He moved in closer, his lips nuzzling the corner of Hux’s mouth as he wound his fingers through Hux’s hair. “I love you, Armie, and that means being there for you, especially when you’re feeling bad.”

Hux had opened his mouth to respond before all the words sank in, and when they did, his chest clenched and robbed him of speech. He felt the telltale signs of his rising pulse rate, color blossoming on his cheeks, and he did the first thing he could think of, and turned his face away.

Things he’d learned from his empathy training and people skills classes burst to the forefront of his mind, and told him this was the wrong reaction to one’s boyfriend saying those particular three words, and so he lowered his head at the last moment and hid his face against Kylo’s shoulder instead.

Hux’s throat moved as he swallowed, any attempt to repeat Kylo’s confession lost in a flood of anxiety, and so he said something easier. “I’m not sure I deserve that, Kylo.”

Kylo didn’t let him escape so easily. He tipped Hux’s chin up, his thumb brushing reassuringly along the length of Hux’s jaw. “Why wouldn’t you?” he asked. Kylo’s eyes were so open, the honesty of his emotions punching Hux in the gut. “Don’t we all?”

Hux leaned into Kylo’s touch reflexively, eyes lidding half-way. He couldn’t help hearing his father’s voice in his head, telling him how useless he was. “I guess that wasn’t the message I got growing up,” he admitted. He regretted saying that out loud immediately.

Kylo’s eyes softened, though thankfully, they weren’t filled with pity. He didn’t speak, choosing to move his hand up to brush the curve of Hux’s cheek, the pad of his thumb swiping reverently over Hux’s lip instead. When he lowered his mouth onto Hux’s, Hux could feel the dryness of Kylo’s lips, taste the saltiness of the skin at the corner of Kylo’s mouth, remnants of their argument that afternoon.

Hux sighed against Kylo’s lips, tongue flicking over the crease and feeling Kylo open for him. His tongue was hot, seeking some answer from Hux that Hux didn’t know how to give beyond to slide his palms down Kylo’s chest to his hips, tugging his t-shirt up to feel the warm skin of his belly beneath.

Kylo shuddered, broke their kiss long enough to sigh as Hux’s knuckles traced the trail of soft hair below his navel. Hux’s other hand slid to Kylo’s back, nestling in the dip above his tailbone and pulling him closer.

“Hux,” Kylo sighed, his body already growing pliant as his face went soft, his mouth hanging half-open and slack. He shifted, his body arching forward as Hux’s finger slid lower, resting tantalizingly above the cleft of his buttocks. Hux groaned in response as the back of Kylo’s thighs rubbed over his hardening cock.

Hux craned his neck to mouth at Kylo’s throat, dragging the flat of his tongue from clavicle to jaw, nipping at the underside as he worked the button of Kylo’s jeans open. The slack allowed him to trace his finger farther along Kylo’s cleft, dipping in between the soft cheeks to tease his entrance.

“I want you,” Hux whispered beneath Kylo’s ear. “Right here, in my lap.”

Kylo was already moaning, his eyes slightly unfocused as he rocked forward upon hearing Hux’s words. The light slanted in from the windows, the late afternoon sun breaking through the moisture-laden air and city smog to throw everything in a purplish and lurid light. It cast Kylo’s face partially in relief, accentuating the sharp angles of his cheeks and the length of his nose, the way his lips were pushing forward from his mouth, and Hux thought that he had never seen Kylo look as primal or beautiful as he did in that very moment.

Hux felt those three words bubbling in his chest, and he wanted to speak them aloud, but he couldn’t—not yet. Instead, he hooked a thumb over the hem of Kylo’s jeans and pushed them down over one hip, lifting Kylo’s shirt with his other hand. Kylo barely had the garment over his head before Hux’s mouth was on him, teeth grazing the swell of his pectoral, tongue flicking over a nipple as he pressed his hips forward, seeking friction against Kylo’s thighs.

Kylo’s nipple hardened with each successive swipe, his hips bucking as he gave in to the assault of Hux’s mouth as Hux’s hands cradled him from front and back. He managed to latch onto the zipper of Hux’s trousers, his eagerness to get to Hux betrayed by the way they shook and fumbled. There was a breath of relief which escaped Hux’s mouth as the metal hardware finally gave way, the fabric pushed aside to reveal the shape of Hux’s cock underneath, which slowly fattened as Kylo pressed his hand against its rigid outline and began to grind.

Hux groaned, tugging at the waistband of Kylo’s boxers to slide them farther down, then freeing himself so he could wrap a hand around both their cocks, holding them together as Kylo rolled his hips, muffling a whine in Hux’s hair. Blindly, Hux reached to the crease between the arm of the couch and the cushion, shoving his hand in and groping for a bottle of lube hidden there for just this kind of spontaneous moment when they were too desperate for one another to cross the room to the bed.

He flicked the cap open, keeping his lips on Kylo’s neck, and tilted the bottle so the viscous liquid coated his hand, then dropped it. He found Kylo’s lips and parted them with his tongue as he slid his hand back beneath Kylo’s waistband and circled his entrance with one slick finger.

Hux was painfully hard, not wanting to wait for any logistics like working Kylo open, condoms, or even taking off any more clothes than necessary. He forced himself to be patient, burying his face in Kylo’s neck as he slipped one finger in half-way, breathing a contented sigh when Kylo shuddered with pleasure and moaned.

He felt the muscles of Kylo’s ass tighten, then relax against the intrusion as Kylo pushed back, allowing the finger to slip further in.

“Not too much prep, baby,” Kylo whispered, as if sensing Hux’s impatience. “I want to feel you. _Need_ to feel you,” he clarified, accentuating the statement as he wriggled his hips, sinking down on the length of Hux’s finger until the flesh of his buttocks rested on the curve of Hux’s palm.

Hux whined against Kylo’s throat, surprised at how needy he sounded, sliding another finger in quickly alongside the first and letting Kylo work himself open. He nibbled at Kylo’s ear and whispered, “You decide when.”

“Now,” Kylo whispered. He slid off the couch and stood, his body swaying dangerously over Hux’s as he shimmied out of his jeans, which were quickly followed by his boxers as he kicked them off. Hux canted his hips as Kylo bent over and tugged on his trousers, which barely had time to hit the floor before Kylo eagerly repositioned himself on Hux’s lap.

Kylo wrapped his fingers around Hux’s prick as he pressed forward, aligning his bottom against its tip.

Hux’s fingers dug into the soft meat of Kylo’s ass, desperate to thrust up into him but letting Kylo sink down slowly at his own pace, enveloping Hux inch by inch.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Hux groaned, pressing his forehead to Kylo’s sternum, tangling his hand in the long, dark hair that fell across his face. Kylo only whined softly in response, hips stuttering as he took all of Hux’s length. Fully seated, his own prick lay heavy on Hux’s belly, pressed between them as Kylo began to grind his hips forward, working up a rhythm that left Hux gasping, fingernails scoring half-moons in Kylo’s pale flesh.

The pressure of Hux’s increasingly fervent grip just seemed to spur Kylo further. Hux could feel how tightly Kylo’s ass was clenched around him, how the slide of his cock was slower and less slick due to the lack of copious amounts of lube. Kylo bolstered himself by grasping onto Hux’s shoulders; he tipped his head back, his eyes fluttering shut as he worked himself up and down, his buttocks hitting Hux’s thighs with each downward thrust as his prick bobbed between them.

Hux moved forward, nearly coming from the feel of Kylo’s prick as it slapped against his belly, leaving a trail of precome in its wake. He slid his palm over Kylo’s back, along his spine and into his hair, winding it in his fingers. His own breath was ragged, and he gripped Kylo’s hip with the other hand, impulsively trying to guide Kylo down faster, harder on his cock.

“I’m close, baby,” Hux rasped, his whole body tingling, balls pulled tight. “Come on.”

He felt Kylo’s hand guiding his own, bringing it towards Kylo’s cock. “Touch me,” Kylo begged. “Please Hux, please.” Kylo’s eyes were squeezed tightly shut, his long lashes dampened and resting sticky against his cheek. Hux dragged a finger along the thick shaft, briefly teasing the slit before he enclosed the head in his fist. He watched as Kylo’s mouth flew open, stomach muscles clenching as Hux stroked his hand rapidly up and down, squeezing and twisting near the top.

Hux leaned in, pressed his lips against Kylo’s neck, tongue tracing his fluttering pulse point before he nipped it softly. Hux swayed closer, tilted his chin up to whisper beneath Kylo’s ear. “Come for me, baby.”

A noise escaped Kylo. It was throaty and hoarse, his voice breaking with the rawness of his emotion and desire. His long neck curved against Hux’s lips, seeking then resting against the sharpness of his teeth, as Hux added his own marks to the pale and dotted flesh.

Kylo came with a sob, Hux’s name emerging from his lips as if broken in two, a polysyllabic plea on top of a sigh. Hux felt Kylo spill over his hand, the streaks of come coating his fingers, their bellies and Hux’s chest, decorating and marking them with the hot and sticky mess.

Hux closed his teeth on Kylo’s shoulder, fingernails digging into the small of his back as Kylo shuddered in his lap. Another few staggered thrusts, and Hux followed him with a gasp, his release pulling a flood of emotions out of his chest that made tears prick in the corner of his eyes. His fingers went slack against Kylo’s skin, and he curled first one arm weakly around Kylo’s back, and then the other, slumping against his broader body as their labored breathing slowed and synched.

They stayed that way for a long moment, Hux going soft, and he finally shifted; the fading alcohol buzz and intense climax left him feeling raw and drained, and he suddenly wanted nothing more than to curl up in Kylo’s arms and sleep.

“Let’s go to bed,” he murmured, stroking Kylo’s back softly, rubbing his nose against Kylo’s neck. “I don’t have anything left for today.”

Kylo turned his head to capture Hux’s lips, hesitant yet sweet. “Okay,” he murmured. “I’ll be right there.” Hux watched as Kylo slid off and admired the view as Kylo padded towards the kitchen, his naked ass dipping with each loping step.

Hux had just pulled aside the covers and was readying himself to settle into bed when Kylo came over with a tall glass of water and a damp washcloth. He handed Hux the glass and proceeded to draw the towel over Hux’s belly and his cock, wiping until it was pink and clean.

Hux couldn’t help smiling, running a hand up Kylo’s inner side. “You have a good bedside manner,” he told him. “And the view isn’t bad.”

Kylo smirked at that, and tossed the washcloth on the nightstand. Hux passed him the glass of water and Kylo took a long gulp as Hux sank onto the bed with a sigh.

“I feel completely boneless,” he said, dropping his head back heavily on the pillow and letting his eyes close. The afternoon sunlight was tinged red through the filter of his eyelids.

Hux felt the mattress dip as Kylo slipped into bed beside him, air wafting across Hux’s skin as Kylo pulled the covers over them and let them sink down and cradle them in their warm cocoon.

“S’good,” Kylo hummed. He ran the back of his hand over the outline of Hux’s face; Hux felt a gentle tug as Kylo wrapped a lock of hair around his finger, as if marveling at its silkiness and its color. When Kylo didn’t let go, Hux cracked open an eye.

“What are you doing?” he asked, fighting the urge to purr as Kylo brushed the nape of his neck.

“Looking at you. You’re beautiful, you know that?” Kylo said it so matter-of-factly that Hux fought the sudden urge to blush. “I mean, you know you’re hot. But it’s more than that.” He brought his thumb to the front of Hux’s face and traced the outline of his lower lip. “You’ve got this amazing bone structure—it’s delicate and sharp, and your words and wit are just as biting, but they come from a mouth that’s swollen and soft.

“Your eyes are the most incredible green. They never miss anything, even when they’re hiding behind the curtain of your gorgeous lashes.” Kylo carded his fingers through Hux’s hair, his gaze lingering on the soft strands. “And your hair—God, it may be my favorite thing, the way it can look russet when it’s wet, or a coppery gold in the sunlight, or the perfect mix when it’s spread out against the white of our sheets…”

Hux laughed softly, turning towards the window, his throat suddenly tight at the unexpected praise. The clouds were moving across the landscape with unusual speed, the varying amounts of light combining with the changing position of the sun to create swaths of color—lilacs and oranges and reds and yellows and greys, their proportions rapidly changing while fighting twilight’s growing pull.

“You’re hardly a partial judge,” he said, eyes widening at the realization. “You use those colors all the time in your works, even before we met.” He waved his hand at the canvases which hung on the far wall. “The colors of a sunset.”

“Mmmm.” Kylo hummed in taciturn agreement as he settled alongside Hux and pulled him close.

“My family used to rent a beach house every summer when I was growing up. That was always one of my favorite parts of the day...coming back home, exhausted from being in the heat and the ocean, feeling a bit gritty from the sand and the saltwater, starved and ready to collapse. And when you’re by the ocean, the horizon is just so _huge_ , so everything, the setting sun, the sky, the intensity of the colors, is that much greater. I think I was in awe of its beauty. Still am.

“I think I also love the idea that there’s that divide between day and night, light and dark. That a sunset can be peaceful and settling yet also foreboding, just as the sun submits to the earth.” He flashed a shy smile. “That’s sort of the theme I’ve been playing with for my next series of works.”

Hux gazed for a moment longer at the sunset beyond the window, at the paintings on Kylo’s wall, and then rolled over and nestled close. Kylo wrapped an arm around him, thumb combing through the fine hair at the nape of Hux’s neck.

“Sometimes I think I’m rather two dimensional, compared to you,” Hux murmured, nuzzling Kylo’s shoulder with his nose.

Kylo’s hand paused, and he didn’t say anything for a moment, as though he was trying to parse the accuracy of this observation. Then he leaned back, away from Hux, so that he could look him in the eyes. Reluctantly, Hux tilted his head and furtively met Kylo’s gaze.

“Why would you say that?” Kylo asked, sounding vaguely hurt, like Hux finding himself unremarkable was somehow a slight against Kylo.

Hux shrugged one shoulder. “I just don’t think I’m that special.” He plastered on a smirk. “Aside from being just short of god-status in the operating room.”

A tiny crease appeared between Kylo’s eyebrows, indicating that he wasn’t falling for Hux’s thinly veiled diversion. He stroked Hux’s hair back from his forehead. “You _are_ special. And you’re not two-dimensional. Not at all.”

Hux tried to bury his face in Kylo’s neck again, but Kylo shied back, catching Hux’s chin with his thumb and keeping their eyes locked.

Hux sighed. “I’m a cliche,” he said, feeling a lump in his throat. This was the kind of thing he only acknowledged in his most private of thoughts, the kind of reality he saw looking back at him from the mirror before he went to bed at night, the image he tried to obscure with success and bravado.

“Oh come on,” Kylo said, a smile playing on his pretty lips and his face brightening for a moment before he realized that Hux was serious. “You, a top-rated surgeon with a brilliant wit and great taste in bad coffee mugs are a _cliche?”_

Hux tried to pull his chin out of Kylo’s grip. “That’s just it, though. I’m a surgeon with a bad attitude who terrifies his residents, I show up at charity functions because it makes me look more altruistic than I actually am, I order my furniture from a catalogue and have nothing but condiments in my refrigerator.” Hux took a deep breath after this diatribe, then continued, despite the look on Kylo’s face, which was part sorrowful and part appalled. “I don’t do anything interesting. Don’t paint, don’t write novels, don’t travel the world providing free healthcare to impoverished nations. I’m just...boring.”

Kylo looked at him, mouth open. Hux finally freed his chin from between Kylo’s fingers and rolled away again, suddenly feeling stupid for having let these feelings burst out of their carefully constructed cage of false bravado.

Kylo didn’t move for a space of several seconds, then he scooted closer to Hux and wrapped him beneath his arm. Hux affected to be stiff as a board, unyielding, but Kylo was not deterred, drawing him close again until Hux’s back was flush with Kylo’s chest.

Kylo’s breath was warm against the shell of Hux’s ear, only then making Hux realize he was quivering, like he was running a low-grade fever. _What the fuck was wrong with him_ _?_ It’s the emotional bullshit, he told himself. Nothing good ever came out of being _genuine_ and _in tune_ with one’s feelings.

Kylo pecked Hux’s earlobe, tentatively. “You aren’t boring, baby. I love you.”

Hux expelled the air frozen in his lungs. He almost, _almost_ , said ‘but you don’t count because you’re my boyfriend,’ but he caught himself in time. “My father always told me I’d never amount to much,” he said instead. “That I was useless.”

He felt Kylo’s arm tighten around him, try to pull him closer. He lay there limp, unresponsive, because he refused to cling.

“So,” Hux continued, “I spent the rest of my life trying to prove him wrong. I became the most useful person I knew how to be. Someone necessary. Someone that no one would ever look at and doubt my value.”

“Hux…” Kylo whispered, his voice hoarse.

Hux’s jaw went tight, and he tried to ignore the stinging in his eyes. He didn’t know where all of this was coming from, but it was a tide sweeping him irrevocably out to sea. “You know, we went on this family vacation one time. Out to the desert, Bryce Canyon national park. You were talking about sunsets. I remember watching the sunset with my mom, sitting on the hood of our old station wagon. The sky was beautiful, and the universe felt like it went on forever, like I could see how it was just a veil between us and the stars. Like the galaxy was close enough to touch.”

Kylo buried his nose against Hux’s shoulder, his breath warm and humid. Hux felt him sigh with the rise and fall of his chest, but Kylo said nothing. Hux’s eyes felt wet, and he sniffed.

“I remember my mom was sad, on that trip. I didn’t understand why until I was older. I thought it was kind of fun to stop at hotels on the way and go to the pool with mom and never wondered where my dad was. Mom always told me he was “getting some stuff” for our vacation to make it more fun. I know now he was out at a bar, trying to forget that he’s as boring as I am, that he thought he was destined for great things and ended up being nothing more than a recruiter for a temp agency.” Again, Hux sucked in a desperate lung full of air, and sniffed again. The sound was thick and wet, and his eyelashes felt sticky, and he felt like he was falling into a void with nothing to grab onto.

Kylo smoothed the hair back from Hux’s forehead, his touch almost reverent like Hux had achieved some kind of ethereal form requiring special care. Or like he was mad, and might explode. “Comparing yourself to your parents never gets you anywhere,” he said softly. “Nor does comparing yourself to their vision of who you should have been.”

Hux huffed, turned his face toward the pillow, but was glad when Kylo’s hand followed him, didn’t stop carding the sweat-damp hair that wanted to drift into his eyes. “What happens when you try so hard to be something better than your parents said you’d be, that you end up just like them?”

Kylo pressed a kiss to Hux’s neck, and Hux instinctively tilted his head into the pillow, baring his throat.

“Why do you think you’re like your parents?” he asked softly.

Hux sighed. “Because I hide behind my money, behind my career, at the bottom of a bottle, all because I don’t think I’m good enough and I’d rather not face it. Because I don’t achieve enough or achieve the right things or…” His voice choked off, and he tried to cough to cover the ragged sound. “I shouldn’t have done what I did today,” he croaked.

Kylo kissed him again, tenderly. More so than Hux thought he deserved. “It’s okay. We’re okay.”

Hux lay there, cheeks wet with tears he couldn’t really remember falling. “For now,” he said. “But it didn’t work out like that for my parents. My parents got divorced, my father drank himself to death and my mother was just a… ghost. After that.” Another tear snaked down his cheek. “I don’t want to be either of them. But...here I am.”

Kylo was silent again for a moment, and then he shifted his arm and applied pressure to Hux’s shoulder, pulling. Reluctantly, Hux allowed himself to be turned, allowed himself to hide his face against Kylo’s chest.

Kylo didn’t argue this time, didn’t try to tell Hux his fears were unfounded or irrelevant, and Hux was grateful for that. Kylo only held him, like he was holding together all the things in Hux that wanted to fly apart. And Hux let him, because he’d never let anyone do that before, and because he needed it. Just once.

**.~O~.**

Hux woke the next morning with a dull headache, the sort that had built in his temples and was radiating toward the top of his skull. His eyelids felt like sandpaper, sore around the edges, and his nose was stuffy. Worse than that, he felt like someone had wound him up and wrung him out, and he catalogued all these as reasons not to succumb to any more bouts of crying.

He threw the blankets the rest of the way off and rolled over, sensing the way the bed felt half-empty and cool, and he knew before looking that Kylo was gone. The thought instantly spurred a jolt of panic that made him sit up; the sudden change in altitude, the lurching movement, and the faint smell of coffee that hit him in that moment made his stomach churn unpleasantly as he blinked in the sunlight.

Kylo wasn’t gone, and Hux immediately felt stupid for thinking he would have been; this was, after all, Kylo’s loft. Even if Hux had become a semi-permanent fixture. Kylo was, in fact, standing before a mostly fresh canvas that he’d propped on his easel, barefoot and wearing nothing but pajama pants. He had the blunt end of a paint brush between his lips, regarding the canvas as though waiting for it to speak to him.

Hux’s chest knotted at the way Kylo looked so at ease, posture relaxed and expression open—in his element with his art. Happy. Hux wanted to make him feel that way, too.

He slipped out of bed, the wooden floor cold on his bare feet, and he grabbed one of Kylo’s overlarge t-shirts from the back of a chair and pulled it on. It was big on Kylo, and so it hung mid-thigh on Hux.

He padded halfway across the room before he hesitated, the night before playing through his mind again—how he’d hurt Kylo, then unloaded years of his own tragic sob story that his instinct said would have been much better kept locked away. Hux almost wilted, almost changed course to avoid facing Kylo now that band-aids had been peeled back from Hux’s soul, but then Kylo looked at him. It was like he’d heard Hux’s fear and indecision, and he held out his hand to pull him back from it.

Kylo beckoned, paint brush between his fingers. “C’mere.”

Hux crept closer; he noted that in addition to Kylo’s palette which was covered in blues and yellows and reds, there were a number of plastic containers dotting the dropcloth which contained a clear liquid, close to a quarter-filled.

“What are those for?” Hux asked, curious despite himself.

“I’m trying something new. Fluid acrylics. There’s water and a glazing medium in those bottles; when added with paint, it can give the acrylics a watercolor effect.”

“Cool.” Hux watched Kylo carefully; there was something in his smile that gave Hux pause. “What are you going to paint?”

“What are _we_ going to paint, you mean,” Kylo corrected with a grin. He advanced on Hux, holding out several brushes as if brandishing a weapon even as Hux took a step back.

Hux wrinkled his brow. “I have many talents, darling, but art is not one of them.”

Kylo ignored this, tickling the end of Hux’s nose with one brush; Hux swatted at it, tried to turn away only to catch the bristles on his ear, and so he snatched it away from Kylo.

Kylo smiled triumphantly at him. “I win.”

Hux huffed and rolled his eyes. “You say that now. When you see me painting, you’ll reconsider.” Despite his dour misgivings, Hux shuffled closer, eyeing Kylo cautiously.

Kylo gave a small smile and turned back towards the canvas. “This is just for fun, okay? I’ll show you some of the things I do, but there’s no rules. Do whatever speaks to you.” He handed Hux a towel which, despite its clean scent, was slightly stiff; the greyish pallor and faded streaks effectively prevented Hux from having a clue as to what it’s original color was.

He dipped one of the larger brushes in the red, then the yellow on the palette, gathering a little more yellow on the blunt, squared edges of the brush and blending it into a bright orange. He lifted it onto the canvas, the streaks of yellow still visible as he brushed, the bristles digging, then gliding over the textured surface.

“You missed a spot,” Hux said, pointing out an area where the paint had thinned, the brushstrokes allowing the white of the canvas to come through.

“It’s alright; the paint is semi-transparent, even with colors that look strong and opaque. If you want it fully covered, you can always add a second layer once it dries. Regular acrylics dry pretty fast, so I usually do a lot of layering in my paintings. Since the paint in the bottles are thinned, we can use them for a watercolor or dripping effect.”

Hux took a look at the paintings which filled the apartment, covering the floors and the walls. Two lay side by side, nearly identical in the application and distribution of color, but with disparate feels—one steady and calm, the other whimsical and perhaps verging on turbulent.

Kylo saw the direction of Hux’s gaze. “Sometimes I like seeing the brushstrokes. Not everything has to be perfectly aligned in the same direction. Change can make you think; unpredictability can challenge you.” His eyes were bright and intent. “Don’t do what you think is _right_ ; do what you feel is _good_.”

Hux raised an eyebrow at Kylo. “I usually do the right thing by day, and the good thing at night.”

Kylo snorted, pulling Hux into his space and making room for him in front of the canvas. Tentatively, Hux dipped the end of his brush in bright red pigment, trying to get the distribution even on the bristles, then stood there with the brush hovering over the palette. Kylo stroked his lower back in encouragement, and Hux sighed, lifting the brush and dragging it in an undulating wave through the color Kylo had just applied.

“There,” Hux said, looking at the canvas. “A happy little red streak.”

Kylo couldn’t hide his exasperated grin. He looked at the canvas for several seconds, then dragged a streak of yellow into the dollop of orange he had made several minutes before. The brush stroked assuredly across the canvas in broad strokes, the pressures heavy, then light, creating a wide streak of color that was surrounded by a soft edge.

Kylo brought the head of the brush up to Hux’s creation. The yellows and orange danced around the line, teasing the margins until they merged in the middle.

“There,” he said with a flourish. “It’s happier now that it has a friend.”

 _Isn’t that the way things seem to work out?_ Hux thought to himself. Three months ago, any given Saturday would have found him alone with his coffee and his newspaper, maybe taking a stroll down to the corner market to consider buying ingredients to cook a gourmet dinner for one, then being overwhelmed by the loneliness of that idea and holding up a bar stool the rest of the night at The Penrose instead.

He considered for a moment, glancing at the colors he had. “I’m feeling blue,” he said, glancing over at Kylo, whose face fell briefly before Hux added, “Paint. Blue paint.”

“Oh,” Kylo said, smiling. He picked up a bottle from the table to his right and squeezed a portion of the paint onto the palette. “That enough?”

“Who knows?” Hux responded. “This is all a mystery to me.” He did, at least, know how to make purple, and he dragged his brush through the blue paint and mixed it with the outer edge of the red until he had the color he wanted. He brandished it at Kylo. “Impressed?”

“Absolutely.” His eyes twinkled even as he leveled Hux a serious look. “Now are you going to keep waving that brush around, or will you put paint on the canvas before it actually dries?”

Hux turned back to the canvas. “You can’t rush art, Kylo,” he drawled, dabbing a bit of the purple above the reds and oranges to see how it looked. It reminded him of the way the depths of the night sky swallowed up the last rays of the sunlight, purple giving way to deep blue before the moon set.

“Okay,” Hux said, eyeing the streaks of color he’d applied. “How do we…” He waved his hand vaguely at the canvas. “...blend this?”

Hux didn’t know how much time passed while they were painting; he’d been amused by the process at first, humoring Kylo because, in a way, Hux felt he still needed to apologize in some way, and whatever would make Kylo happy in the moment seemed as good a method as any.

Somewhere along the way, however, Hux had gotten lost in it—in the way that haphazard swaths of color took on dimension under the guidance of Kylo’s steady hand, purple tinted clouds forming out of the maelstrom of reds and oranges, with the edge of the canvas becoming a horizon.

At some point, Hux had drifted further into Kylo’s space, held close with one of Kylo’s arms around his waist and the other joining Hux in painting or in gently showing him techniques. It was peaceful, like coaxing something beautiful into the world by being careful and quiet.

Hux wasn’t sure when Kylo had stopped painting, or, for that matter, when he himself had done so. The morning sun had shifted out of view from the windows, leaving only an expanse of bright blue outside broken by the myriad shapes of city buildings. Hux stood staring at the painting, holding his brush by his side, and frowned.

“I can’t think of what else to do with it,” he admitted, feeling like somehow he’d failed to harness inspiration without Kylo’s help.

Instead of directing him or offering suggestions, Kylo just nuzzled his hair and kissed the side of his head. “That’s because it’s finished,” he said. “When something is right, you just know.”

Hux stroked the fingers of one hand gently across Kylo’s arm. “You think so?”

“Mmmhm,” Kylo said, hugging Hux closer and enclosing him with both arms now.

Hux was still staring at the painting, but he’d stopped seeing it. Instead, he saw himself on a cold December street holding Kylo’s hand, and he saw himself waking up for the first time in someone’s arms and wanting to be nowhere else in the world. He pictured Kylo showing up at the hospital to meet him for dinner, and how he’d somehow made it all the way across town with blue paint on his nose.

Thinking of that day reminded him of the many times he’d opened his bag in the office to find Kylo had somehow spirited a note inside, which unfolded always said something silly beneath a simple drawing. Like “don’t forget to be happy” with a smiley face. Or “miss ewe” with a puffy, cotton ball sheep. Hux kept them all in his desk drawer, and some days tracing his fingers over those lines was all that kept him going. That, and the bottle of whiskey the notes did a good job of hiding.

Hux turned in Kylo’s arms, working one arm up to drape around Kylo’s neck, the paintbrush still balanced between two fingers. “But how do you _really_ know?” Hux asked. “When something is right?”

Kylo’s eyes flicked to the painting, and Hux felt him take a breath, as though he was about to try to explain it, and then Hux kissed the corner of his mouth and Kylo seemed to realize they weren’t talking about art anymore.

Kylo stroked a stray hair away from Hux’s forehead, and for once Hux didn’t care about the paint on his fingers. “Because it makes you happy, and you want it to stay that way,” he said softly.

Hux traced his thumb along the nape of Kylo’s neck. “Even if it works long hours, is grouchy in the morning, isn’t always very sensitive, and takes up all your space in the bathroom?”

Kylo nodded, the corner of his mouth curling up in a small, hopeful smile that made Hux’s belly twist. “I’m not very good at this,” Hux said softly. “Any of it. I don’t think I deserve someone like you. Someone full of light.”

Kylo’s eyes softened and he stroked Hux’s hair back again. “You deserve to be happy.”

Hux realized, in that moment, that he _was_ happy. Things suddenly fell into place that he hadn’t catalogued correctly before, like the fact that he’d started remembering the faces and family stories of his patients, how he’d opened the blinds in his office for the first time in years to let the light in and stopped barking at people for asking him how his day had been. His answer was easy now, because it was the same every day.

Hux realized then, what Kylo had meant by _you just know_.

“I love you,” he said, threading his fingers through Kylo’s hair. He pulled Kylo’s lips to his and kissed him hard, because he wanted that to be all that mattered, all there was to say. He wanted that to be all the armor they needed for the uncertain future.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to the amazing [**cynderiOpus**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cynderiaOpus) who gifted us with her gorgeous artwork for the fic:
> 
> Larger version can be seen here [on Tumblr](http://cynderiaopus.tumblr.com/post/169961192209/inspired-by-two-years-two-months-and)


	5. Shattered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things can fall apart just as quickly as they came together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to the incredible [@mad1492](http://mad1492.tumblr.com/) her beautiful, additional artwork!! <3

 

Hux massaged the bridge of his nose with forefinger and thumb and deliberately corrected his posture; he’d been slumped over his desk for two hours now trying to finish his charting and his lower back hurt almost as much as his head.

He let his glasses drop back into place and blinked at the computer, then craned his head to peer through the blinds, catching a glimpse of steely gray sky beyond a smattering of raindrops on the glass. Lightning flickered, limning the horizontal slats, and Hux sighed.

It had been raining for three days, the clouds offering a meteorological buffet of dreary weather, from a mist-laden atmosphere that clung to the skin and wreaked havoc on one’s hair to torrential downpours that turned everyone, hospital staff and patients alike, into drowned rats. Not for the first time, Hux contemplated the potential need for talented surgeons in tropical locales.

He spent another interminable moment staring at the computer monitor, avoiding his keyboard in favor of attempting to rub some of the tension out of his neck. His mind drifted in yet another direction as he imagined Kylo’s large, wonderfully skilled fingers taking the place of his own, rubbing slow circles along the curve of his spine, leaving him warm and tingling with soft kisses.

Hux groaned, a sound somewhere between frustration and longing, and slipped his cell phone out of his pocket to see that he had a text notification. He unlocked his screen, the background showing a ridiculous close up of himself and Kylo at a St. Patrick’s day shindig at an Irish pub near the loft. Kylo had insisted that Hux, who was irredeemably Irish, wear a glittery shamrock sticker on his cheek.

He really should change his background, Hux thought, raking his eyes over the various photographs of him and Kylo adorning his desk for everyone to see. It was downright ostentatious, really.

Thumbing the text app open, Hux found a message from Kylo.

> **_Question of the day: What’s red and black and off-white all over?_ **

He tried to suppress a grin, as though there were anyone to witness the way his boyfriend always made him smile. Since dating Kylo, his reputation as a harried curmudgeon had been seriously called into question; such happiness was best contained behind closed doors.

**_I believe it’s ‘What’s white and black and red all over.’ And the answer is ‘A newspaper.’_ **

He waited, his lips quirking in a mixture of exasperation and fondness.

> **_But that’s not what I asked…_ **

Hux’s fingers flew over the screen as he imagined Kylo’s lower lip, the plump fullness of it growing even greater as it settled into a pout. He longed to take it between his teeth, to lick its soft edges as he worked his tongue into that sweet mouth. It had been too long since they had a moment to themselves for anything more than a good-morning kiss hello or a quick good-night fuck.

**_Fine. A bloody penguin_  **

> **_This makes me very sad_ **

**_Did you interrupt my very busy day to ask me riddles? I have an important date with about ten charts…_  **

> **_Actually, can I be the eleventh?_ **

**_I’m confused. And you never told me the answer._  **

> **_The answer is ‘You and me, at an off-Broadway play.’ On a date_ **

**_That doesn’t even make any sense. I should refuse, on principle alone._  **

> **_Well, Broadway’s like the 'Great White Way,' right? So, off-Broadway…_ **

**_Stop. That’s even worse. If I say yes, will you stop?_ **

There was no reply at first, and Hux’s breath caught at the thought that perhaps it had been one stroppy text too many. Then the cursor blinked, and Hux’s green eyes narrowed as he awaited Kylo’s response, which finally came through in a burst of rainbow heart emojis.

> **_Say ‘yes.’ And no, I’ll never stop. Show’s at 8._ ❤️❤️❤️**

Hux smiled, considered being argumentative just to stir Kylo up, but had a dismal habit of predictably saying yes to anything Kylo suggested. Perhaps that was a side-effect of being in love.

**_It better be followed by an expensive bottle of wine and a fantastic blow job._ **

By the time the show ended, Hux was ready to up the ante to a bottle of Gaja Barabaresco followed by Kylo’s mouth on his cock, and then a good and thorough rimming. The theater was small and musty, the acoustics terrible, and the chairs unupholstered and uncomfortably hard. And despite the fact that the seats were half-empty, their proximity to the stage and the actors meant that there was no opportunity for a stealthy hand job or even a kiss that held more than the hint of tongue. He contented himself with the feel of Kylo’s large hand squeezing his own, and the way Kylo allowed him to rest his head upon his broad shoulders even though he was already scrunched into the narrow seat.

Hux had drifted off towards the end of the second act. He was deciding between having a post-theater snack and drink at  _Ça Va_  or  _Bar Centrale,_  when Kylo gave him the news.

“What’d you think?” he asked excitedly.

“As stimulating as a handful of Ativan and Xanax,” Hux drawled. “Although I’m pretty revved up for what comes next.” He took out his phone and scrolled through their texts, ending pointedly on his own.

Kylo grinned. “Oh, you’ll get all that, don’t worry. But come; I’ve got a surprise for you first.”

They wound their way backstage, past tables and chairs on rollers labeled with masking tape and backdrops and props from some of the bigger scenes. A right turn brought them to a series of dressing rooms; the doors were painted an institutional green, the doorknobs tarnished and rough, at odds with Hux’s notions of the bright lights of the Great (off) White Way.

“He’s expecting us,” Kylo said as he rapped on the door twice.

“Who—?” The word was barely out of his mouth when the door flew open. Hux stood by, flummoxed, as a handsome man with tanned skin, a healthy head of curls, and a mega-watt smile threw himself into Kylo’s arms, followed by that all-too-familiar pat on the back that signified they were somehow ‘bros.’

Perfect teeth turned towards Hux. “You must be Hux. Kylo’s told me so much about you.” He flashed him a blinding grin as he held out his hand.  “I’m Poe.”

Hux blinked, hesitated for a noticeable number of seconds before he proffered his own hand. “All of it exceedingly flattering, I hope,” he mumbled, side-eyeing Kylo, who was grinning at him as though this was some secret adventure he’d been planning for months. Was it?

Poe reached out and cuffed Kylo goodnaturedly on the shoulder. “When has he been anything but?”

“Mmmm.” Hux offered a noncommittal noise, unable to keep from focusing on the way Poe’s hand lingered a bit too long on Kylo’s shoulder. “So, you’re an actor,” he went on, cleverly, as he gestured behind him vaguely in the direction of the stage. Hux tried not to sound as though acting was a disdainful profession, but the way Poe’s heavy brows shot up made him suspect he’d not succeeded.

“Yeah. Among other things. Waiter. Dog Walker… "

“You forgot ‘Singing Telegram’ artist,” Kylo teased.

A faint blush suffused Poe’s cheeks. “Yeah, I’m just an all-around Jack-of-All-Trades.” His brown eyes held a mischievous glint as he turned towards Hux. “No stripograms yet, though.”

Hux raised an eyebrow, finding himself giving Poe a head to toe assessment before he thought better of it. He was shorter than Hux liked, a bit broader through the shoulders, but handsome enough. When he glanced at Kylo and found him staring almost as openly at Poe, something unpleasant unfurled in his chest.

Clearing his throat, Hux nudged Kylo’s shoulder with his own, leaving himself glued to Kylo’s side as he threaded their fingers together. “So, should we get home?” He purposefully indicated they had one residence between them. Even though that wasn’t quite true—Hux hadn’t been to his own flat for more than a couple of housekeeping hours a week in months.

Kylo squeezed Hux’s hand, the grip of it reassuring and warm. “Night’s still young.” He leaned in, his lips nuzzling the lobe of Hux’s ear. “I believe I promised you some expensive wine before the main event,” he whispered, his breath hot against Hux’s cheek.

A pleasant shiver trickled down Hux’s spine. “By all means,” he said, turning into Kylo’s kiss and capturing his lips briefly. “Let’s go then.” He gave Poe a tight smile. “It was nice to meet you. Good um… work. On the play, and all.”

Poe’s brows shot up again as Kylo let out a gentle laugh. “You can save your good-byes for later,” Kylo said. “We’ve got reservations at the Canto Bight Bar and Grill in half an hour. Poe has a bit of an 'in.' ”

“Helps when you’re living with the owner,” Poe added with a wink.

“I guess,” Hux said, meaning that living with the owner was an advantage, and not that he was agreeing to go anywhere but home, to bed, which was honestly where he’d rather have been hours ago. Both Poe and Kylo seemed to take his monotone for assent, because he suddenly found himself being tugged against Kylo’s side in a fierce hug.

Hux leaned in, trying to find comfort in the scent of citrus and spice as he held the folds of Kylo’s shirt in his grip. The narrow hallways looked even darker and dingier than before, without the stage lights and the noise. Even the props appeared listless, the costumes hanging droopily off the wire hangers on a wheeled rack that was shoved behind a potted plant.

Poe pushed open the backdoor; there was a chilly blast of the evening air, followed by the blare of horns as the tourists milled about the streets. Several of them cast surreptitious glances at the trio, as if trying to figure out their possible celebrity and social media worthiness.

Poe lit a cigarette; the end hissed and flared. “It’s a nice night; you guys mind walking? It’s only six blocks away.” Somewhere in the background, there was a flash as a phone camera clicked.

Hux squinted in the direction of the camera, saw the light flash again. Then he looked at Poe. “Got an extra one of those?” He held his hand out without waiting for an affirmative, and Poe shook the pack, slid one halfway out for Hux to take. He did, slipping it between his lips and leaning in for Poe to hold his lighter to the tip. Hux took a deep breath, focused on the cherry blooming at the tip, then blew the smoke out in Poe’s direction.

“So you live with the owner,” Hux drawled, flicking ash off the cigarette as Poe turned his face aside briefly to take a breath of air. “Roommates? More?” Hux recognized that it was an invasive question, but felt like he was on the spot, and so Poe should be too.

A surprised look flitted over Poe’s face before he quickly smoothed it away. “Hmmm. Let’s just say we started out as roommates and later became ‘Roommates with Benefits.’ “

Kylo looked over Hux’s head at Poe. “And knowing you, it’ll eventually be something more. You always were a sucker for relationships,” he said softly.

“Not that they’ve always worked out,” Poe said. His constant smile faltered briefly as Kylo looked sheepishly at the pedestrian crossing sign that turned a blinking yellow.

Hux’s eyes narrowed to slits as he took in this exchange, and he blew smoke out of his nose as he plucked the cigarette from between his lips, the end somewhat crushed from the pressure of his teeth. “I take it you two go back a way,” he observed, Kylo nearly off-balancing Hux’s defensive posture as he pulled him across the street. The air was cold, damp on Hux’s cheeks, but at least it wasn’t raining.

“Quite a bit. I’ve known Poe since we were kids; our families had houses next to each other at the beach.” Kylo bit his lip. “I had a bit of hero-worship going on there for a couple years,” he confessed.

Poe let out a laugh. “God, you were always begging to tag along.” He winked at Hux. “Although I didn’t mind when—what was it, the summer after your freshman year? Almost didn’t recognize him; this awkward, gangly kid grew up and became tall and buff and… well, you know.”

Hux actually dug one foot in just as he crested the curb onto the sidewalk, meaning to have the story behind the summer after Kylo’s freshman year and what Poe had to do with that, but Kylo chose that moment to wrap an arm around Hux’s waist and kiss the tender spot behind his ear.

“I grew into my long legs, if you know what I mean,” Kylo whispered, and Hux felt his cheeks heat. He elbowed Kylo. He most certainly  _did_ know. He wanted to ask more, to go into details, but even with his questionable respect for propriety, he couldn’t think of just how to interject that while walking down the street toward an evening dinner engagement.

“So this...beach house,” he managed instead. “You still have it?” Hux didn’t really care, but it was something besides  _have you seen my boyfriend naked?_

“No… that’s all in the past, at least for now. Have to leave myself available for any jobs that come my way, you know?”

“You’ll get there.” Hux startled at how genuine Kylo’s response sounded; there was an honesty and conviction that went beyond simple platitudes or bon mots. “You’re talented, Poe. I’ve no doubt you’re going to make it big someday.”

“Ahhh. From your lips… " Poe chuckled, nudging Hux. “Although I think your boyfriend’s going to beat us both. How does it feel to date an up-and-coming darling of the art set?”

Hux’s fingers tightened around Kylo’s, and he realized with a sinking-pit sort of feeling in his belly that he wasn’t quite sure how Kylo’s world worked beyond the way his flat was ringed with canvases and the way Kylo talked about inspiration. Was he popular? Shouldn’t Hux know that?

“It feels good,” he mumbled, thrown off. He caught Kylo’s curious look and hurried to add, “He’s very gifted. Deserves every success.” Hux realized he sounded like he was being interviewed on the fly by an obtrusive news crew. He felt awkward, like he should have had a speech prepared; he felt Kylo looking at him, but was too unsure of his response to look over. Instead, he squeezed his hand, trying to say  _'I love you, you’re perfect and you’re mine'_  with just that touch.

“On that, we definitely agree. Hang on, we’re here.“ He pulled on the door handle and waved them through. Hux’s gaze adjusted to the warm woods and soft yellow lighting inside as Poe chattered with the hostess, his hands gesturing in an expressive and animated way. It was bubbly and effusive and loud—everything that Hux was not.

The crowded interior made it impossible to walk hand-in-hand as they wound their way to their table, but Kylo seemed to feel Hux’s apprehension as he remained close behind, his fingers occasionally sweeping along the curve of Hux’s back. They were seated in a corner booth in the back: a perfectly romantic setting for two, and an uncomfortably intimate one for three.

Hux wedged himself in beside Kylo, who ended up across from Poe, and Hux couldn’t help but notice the way their knees were touching beneath the table. He had to resist the urge to put a hand on Kylo’s thigh and pull him away, closer, so that the line of demarcation was clear between the two. Just as he was thinking it, Kylo’s eyes flicked to him, studying his face like he could read all these thoughts. A tiny crease appeared between his eyebrows, there and then gone just as quickly, and Kylo leaned over to ask silently for a kiss. Hux met his lips, lingering longer than he usually might in such a crowded, public place. When they parted, Poe was watching them with that toothpaste-commercial grin.

“So Kylo told me you’re a hotshot surgeon over at Tisch,” Poe said as he snapped his menu open. His eyes scanned the listings before settling on a rib-eye, then looked at Hux with what appeared to be genuine interest. “How’d you guys meet?”

Kylo glanced at Hux, seemingly content to let him answer. Hux was momentarily distracted as a young woman dropped off three glasses of ice water and a basket of warm rolls wrapped in white linen. Taking a sip of his water, Hux thought back to that night at Phasma’s, how magnetic Kylo had been..

“We were set up, kind of,” Hux said, setting the glass back on the table and wiping the moisture off his palm on a napkin. “Rather, my friend Phasma got us in the same room together to see what would happen.” He glanced at Kylo, found him smiling. “And here we are, I guess,” Hux finished, pleased when Kylo reached over and squeezed his thigh.

“He’s skipping all the good parts,” Kylo grinned as Poe let out a laugh. “We compared hands… only to find that I couldn’t keep mine off of him.” He looked up at Hux from beneath the fall of his hair; even in the dim light, Hux could see the pink steal into Kylo’s cheeks.

“Looks like you still have that problem,” Poe said teasingly. “How long have you guys been together?”

“Four months.  Well, four months, one week and three days, but who’s counting?”

Poe’s eyes twinkled. “For you, that’s saying something.” He looked over at Hux, whispering to him  _sotto voice._ “Looks like someone finally managed to tame all that wanderlust.”

Hux’s mouth fell open, a panic alarm going off in the back of his skull. He wanted to quiz Poe, to demand to know what exactly he was implying with that word, and wanted to know why four months was a long time.

Instead, Hux closed his mouth again, eyes flicking briefly to Kylo, who looked too relaxed and too pleased to be someone that didn’t stay in relationships very long. Hux could suddenly almost hear the clock ticking in his head, and when their server appeared to take their drink orders, he set about to combat his sudden anxiety with a double scotch on the rocks.

“So um...did you two used to be...a thing?” Hux asked, fiddling with the silverware on the table, lining it up, evenly spaced. He was terrible at small talk, as this rather blunt question no doubt proved.

Poe let out a dramatic sigh, the sort which didn’t dissipate quietly and seemed more suitable for the stage. “Insofar as a summer fling can be considered a 'thing.’ Kylo’s probably the most loyal friend you could ever have on your side. Unfortunately, he prides honesty, probably to a fault.” He gave Kylo a wry smile. “He doesn’t like to lead people on; I think that’s why he’s always had issues with settling down.”

Kylo looked at Hux enigmatically. “Or it could just be that I hadn’t found the right person to settle down with.”

Hux’s belly did an unexpected little flip, and he abruptly picked up his menu. It thankfully hid part of his face, though not his nose and cheeks, which felt warm. Something about this conversation was entirely too real for him. He wanted Kylo to himself, wanted to be able to slide over into the center of the booth with him and lean in close to ask him what he meant by  _settling down_ , to ask what it was about himself that Kylo wanted to keep. Instead, they were here with Kylo’s ex... whatever.

He was grateful when the drink he’d ordered appeared on the table, and he took a healthy sip, only realizing he must have forgotten to eat lunch by the way it hit his stomach and made his blood feel warmer. He looked at Kylo, tried to think of something to say, but felt Poe looking at them, and didn’t want him to hear. It wasn’t his business. He did manage to find Kylo’s hand under the table, though.

Poe leaned forward, his expression growing even more animated, thick brows waggling and hands flying. “Speaking of settling down Kylo, you’ll never guess who I ran into the other day!”

Kylo raised a brow. “Well, if I won’t be able to, you’d better tell me then.”

“Jessika Pava…remember her? The girl who was unbelievably shy and never said a peep? Well, turns out she’s doing voice over work. Pretty successful, too—commercials, even a couple shows on Cartoon Network. I ran into her when we both had to do a radio spot for Hot Topic.”

“No kidding,” Kylo laughed. “Wouldn’t even know what she sounds like.”

“Anyway, she’s engaged. To Snap Wexley.”

“No shit.” Kylo whistled, long and low as he turned to Hux. “Guy’s loaded, but old enough to be her father.”

Hux wrinkled his nose. “You used to date her?” he asked cautiously, as that was, clearly, the basic take-home of this exchange.

“Oh, God no—”

“Not that she wasn’t interested,” Poe interjected. “I mean, she spent the entire summer before sophomore year drawing ‘JP + KR’ in the sand. And then you fucking kissed her!”

Kylo looked up guiltily. “Uhhh… I believe it was the other way around.” He splayed his hands out in a gesture of surrender as he looked at Hux. “She kind of cornered me there. I avoided her for the rest of that summer.”

Poe took a sip of his drink and smirked. “Well, you may have reconsidered if you had any idea that she’d turn out the way she did. Drop dead gorgeous.”

Hux frowned, hiding it in another swig of whiskey. “I mean, because that’s all that matters,” he griped, eyes flicking over the rim of the tumbler to Poe.

“Well, of course not. But it’s amazing what a pretty face and hot bod will allow people to overlook,” Poe said meaningfully, his brown eyes boring into Hux’s.

Hux’s eyes narrowed, and he settled his glass on the table with a thunk. He opened his mouth to respond, but was startled into silence with Kylo’s lips on his cheek. They found their way up to his ear in soft little pecks until Hux’s cheeks were warm and Kylo was whispering in his ear.

“Be nice, baby.” Then he was scooting closer to Hux, and Hux was confused about it until Kylo patted him on the leg. “Gotta use the restroom. Scootch.”

Hux awkwardly pushed himself out of the small booth, keeping hold of his whiskey like it was a shield, and hovered there while Kylo made his way through the crowd to the back of the restaurant. He considered waiting for Kylo to return before he sat back down, considered pretending Poe wasn’t there, but that was several shades to the bright side of obvious. He settled for perching just at the edge of the booth seat and not facing Poe. He tried to think of something to say, but ended up just feeling prickly, which he knew from past experience was a good time to keep his mouth shut.

Poe watched Kylo leave, his eyes lingering perhaps a bit too long on his delicious backside. When he next spoke, his eyes were focused at a point just beyond Hux’s left ear.

“You know, Kylo must really like you. It’s not often that he brings his partners to meet his childhood friends.”

Hux’s head snapped around. “I can assure you it wasn’t my plan for him to bring me to meet anyone tonight, much less someone with unwelcome anecdotes about his past.”

Poe’s eyes went from warm to steely in a flash. “Perhaps not yours. But your boyfriend obviously thought it was important enough to bring you into it.”

“It sounds like you really spend more time thinking about Kylo’s inner motivations than you should,” Hux snapped, feeling the back of his neck heat. It was quite interesting how quickly the air had turned thick without Kylo to filter it.

Condensation dripped down the side of Poe’s glass. The drop fattened, then thinned as it splashed on the table’s surface. “I’ve known Kylo for almost twenty years. I don’t need to ‘think’ about his motivations.”

Hux swallowed another scathing retort with the rest of his whiskey—he’d downed that perhaps a bit too fast for having not eaten since the bagel he’d had with his coffee at six a.m. He stretched out a hand and uncovered the rolls in the center of the table, trying to ignore the way his fingers had a slight tremble. Low blood sugar, he suspected.

Hux forced himself to slice the roll neatly on his appetizer plate and apply a thin smear of butter to the warm center, rather than tear into it voraciously. He realized he was being hostile, and couldn’t entirely put a finger on why, and could even less summon up the inspiration to give a damn.

He could feel Poe staring at him, as though silently challenging him to have out with it.

Hux took a bite of his roll. Chewed slowly. Swallowed. Drank some water. Looked at Poe at last. The man raised his eyebrows at him, expression somewhere between amused and long-suffering; it usually took months for people to get to that point with Hux.

“So you aspire to act some day?” Hux asked with innocent eyes, taking another bite of his roll. He couldn’t shake the feeling that they were playing some sort of tug-of-war over Kylo, the present and the past fighting for the larger piece of him. Hux did not like losing.

“I’ve done my fair share. Besides, you know what they say about acting:  _An ounce of behavior is worth a pound of words."_ Poe grabbed one of the rolls from the basket and sliced into it neatly, slathering enough butter onto its split surface that it oozed out the sides.

Hux sniffed. “So, why is it I’m just hearing about you after all this time?” he asked, trying not to focus on the fact that at just over four months, one could hardly consider his relationship with Kylo much time at all.

Poe let out a sigh. “Look. I’m going to forget you said that. Kylo really likes you, so obviously he sees something in you that—umm, well, let’s just say I’m probably catching you on a bad night.”

He hesitated, then barrelled ahead. “I’m going to give you some advice, whether you want it or not. Kylo’s one of my oldest friends. He’s got lots of acquaintances...I mean, with his personality and charisma, it’s no surprise. But he’s got a small circle of people that he’s _really_ close with. And he’s incredibly protective of them, see? So the fact that he’s letting you into his inner sanctum means that you not only mean a lot, but that he trusts you. But you should also know that he’s not going to take kindly to choosing between you and me.” Poe caught the dab of butter on the tip of his tongue and chewed, letting his words hang in the air.

The indignation drained out of Hux slowly throughout that speech—it was easier to deal with combative people. The reasonable ones usually left him feeling inadequate. And was it true? Was Hux really in Kylo’s inner circle? He’d met so few of Kylo’s friends, it was hard to gauge, but if Poe was right, then that circle must indeed be very small. The feeling of warmth that bloomed in his chest strove to eat away at his antipathy.

“Hey.” A long shadow fell over the table, turning the dark wood even darker as Kylo slipped back into his seat. He took a look at Poe’s face and Hux’s narrowed gaze. “What’d I miss?”

“Not much,” Poe replied, still looking at Hux. “We were just talking about how long you and I’ve known each other.”

Hux blew out a sigh through his nose, frowning, but he didn’t object to this explanation. Instead, he leaned into Kylo and slipped his hand between Kylo’s thick thighs, squeezing.

“Missed you,” Hux purred, stealing a kiss and ignoring the glimpse of surprise on Kylo’s face. He couldn’t help but slide his gaze over to Poe, as if to say  _he might have known you longer but he likes me more_.

“Did you guys order yet?” Kylo’s voice was a bit breathless, as he shifted slightly in his seat.

“Waiting on you,” Hux said, and as if on cue, their server arrived to take their order. Hux selected a yellowtail crudo and topped it off with another double dose of scotch. It might not have been the best of ideas, but Hux felt out of sorts, not in control, and that was the best medicine for it.

“Steakburger with cheddar and a Brooklyn lager,” Kylo said. He dipped his head down, his mouth brushing against the curve of Hux’s ear. “If you don’t stop, I’m going to make an excuse to go back into the bathroom, only this time, I’m taking you with me.”

“I’ll have a steakburger, too. Medium rare, home fries, and a Guinness stout.” Poe handed the waitress his menu, his face adopting a pinched expression as he took in Kylo’s slightly glassy gaze.

Hux caught the look, and nuzzled Kylo’s ear, letting his tongue dart out just enough to wet the soft lobe. Dinner went on this way, meals served and drinks delivered, all punctuated by innocuous conversation and less innocuous behavior on Hux’s part. By the time the server was clearing away the dessert plates, Hux had Kylo warm and flushed and more than just a little hard—Kylo was having trouble finding a way to sit that hid that fact. Poe noticed, and Hux was glad.

“So… _ah,_ want to come over and see some of the pieces I’m going to… _fuck..._ put in the show?” Kylo’s face was a mixture of embarrassment and need, and trending towards red.

Poe cleared his throat. “Um… you know, I’d love to, but I’ve got a matinee tomorrow and—uh—I probably should head home and try to catch some sleep. Maybe another time?” He threw down a couple twenties and a ten. “That should cover my part; no man, don’t worry about getting up,” he added quickly, as Kylo attempted to stand, restrained by both the state of his erection and Hux’s hand. “It was great seeing you again, Kylo. Give me a call.” He nodded curtly before turning and walking away. “Hux.”

“God.” Kylo shuddered, his shoulders slumping as he leaned into Hux. “I love Poe, but I couldn’t wait for him to leave.” He let out a groan. “Longest fucking foreplay in my life. Christ, what you do to me.”

Hux couldn’t help a burst of laughter that he hid against Kylo’s neck, which was heated and made him want to sink his teeth into it.

“I think he’s a little possessive of you,” Hux said. “Tried to warn me off.” Hux blinked up at Kylo with innocent, slightly bleary eyes. “You sure he’s not more than a friend? Seems like he wants to be.”

“Umm, no. That’s totally not Poe; maybe you misunderstood.” He worked his hand along the back of Hux’s neck, his fingers drawing whorls along the nape. “Trust me, all we had was a meaningless fling, and it was a long time ago. Besides, I’ve pretty much only got eyes for you.”

Hux leaned back far enough to look Kylo fully in the eyes. He frowned. “Pretty much?”

Kylo’s mouth fell open slightly; the look should have made him appear ridiculous or dull, but instead it appeared vulnerable and sweet. “Well… I can’t very well be an artist if I don’t appreciate the beautiful things the world has to offer, right?” He nuzzled Hux’s hair, breathing in Hux’s scent. “But the best thing is, I fall asleep to and wake up to the most incredible sight of all.”

Hux bit his bottom lip. “Suave,” he said, kissing Kylo. It threatened to turn into more than just a casual peck the moment their lips touched, and Hux caught the way their server cleared her throat subtly when she stopped by to gather the empty glassware from the table.

“Be needing anything else, gentleman?” she asked cheerfully, her tone betraying no judgement.

Hux glanced at her and smiled. “No, thank you. Just the check.”

Kylo hadn’t bothered to move his lips away from the corner of Hux’s mouth. "Three's a crowd, huh?"  Kylo purred.

"At least tonight," Hux answered with a smirk.

**.~O~.**

“Shit.” Kylo’s hands fumbled with the lighter, the ridged wheel rolling under his thumb several times as the flame failed to spark. “Fuck,” he muttered as he drew a ragged breath.

Hux’s fingers closed over Kylo’s, startling him in his agitation. Hux took the lighter away from him gently, flicked it deftly, and held it so Kylo could dip the end of the cigarette into the flame. Kylo inhaled, the acrid smoke burning his lungs, but the nicotine doing its best to soothe raw nerves.

“Thanks, babe,” he mumbled, turning his head to blow the smoke away from Hux. His next exhale was long—a gray trail of tar and burnt leaf and the city air that dissipated much sooner than his anxiety did. “God, what if they don’t like my stuff? Or worse, if they think I’m just some kind of one hit wonder, that I’ve no potential for any real future?” He leaned instinctively towards Hux, his hands shaking.

Hux frowned, in that way that Kylo had come to know meant he thought Kylo was being ridiculous, or didn’t have all the facts to make an argument, but Hux didn’t remonstrate him. Instead, he plucked at Kylo’s scarf, rearranging it into artful disarray, tucking one end into Kylo’s coat. Kylo watched his hands, like their own form of hypnosis.

Finally, Hux reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind Kylo’s ear, beneath his hat. “They’re going to love you,” he said softly, tracing his thumb down Kylo’s cheek. “Because who wouldn’t?”

Kylo moved closer, the proximity causing the brim of his hat to tilt back and ruffle everything that Hux had just neatly put into place.

“I love you,” he said, his eyes turning a light gold with the fierceness of his conviction. “Thanks for doing this with me tonight. I know… I mean, it was supposed to be our ‘date night,’ and all.”

Hux’s eyes met his for a few seconds, then he shrugged one shoulder. “It’s one night. And it’s important to you.” His face lit with a sly smile. “You can make it up to me tonight.”

 _“Mmmmm._ If you’re trying to distract me, it’s working,” Kylo laughed softly. “Still… it’s the first weeknight you’ve had off in forever, and you’re spending it not only with me, but about a hundred other people. And I know how much you  _love_ art shows.” He frowned as a couple brushed by to enter the brightly lit gallery, dressed predictably in all-black.

Hux glanced at the people passing them, waiting to speak until the door was drifting closed behind them. Then he looked at Kylo again, leaning forward to give him a soft kiss. “You’re going to knock them out, baby,” he said quietly, close to Kylo’s lips. When he leaned back again, he plucked the cigarette out of Kylo’s fingers and took a puff, then said around the smoke, his voice thick, “And you can talk about how supportive I was in your biography.” Hux’s words sounded serious, but his eyes were dancing.

Kylo ran his hand through his locks before setting his fedora back in place, but this time, his fingers were much steadier. He waited until Hux removed the cigarette from his mouth to bridge the distance, feeling the softness as Hux’s lips gave way, and tasting the hint of cloves on his tongue.

“I guess nothing’s going to happen if we remain standing out here,” Kylo sighed. “Let’s go in. At the very least, if you’re not into the art, you can enjoy some of the hors d'oeuvres and the champagne.” He pushed against the door, the heavy, thick glass panel readily swinging open under his weight. Even though the interior was clearly visible from the outside, everything was more intense and vibrant once they crossed the threshold. The walls were painted a bright white—made even brighter by the overhead lighting and set off by the polished concrete flooring that was buffed to an unnatural shine. Pleasant and immediately forgettable music that would have been serviceable at any coffee house or middle-tier spa flowed through the room, an unobtrusive backdrop to the muted chatter, tinkling glasses, and occasional pleased expressions of the various participants in the room.

Hux picked up a price list from the table, doing a double take as he glanced at a piece prominently exhibited on the floating wall. “Are you shitting me?!” he whispered loudly to Kylo, who looked around nervously. “What the fuck is that supposed to be?”

Kylo stepped back, taking in the canvas painted in stark black, the edges thick and angry with the random swipes of a palette knife, the center smooth and devoid of any discernable strokes. _“'My work strives to achieve the perfect balance between the conscious and subconscious,'"_ he recited from the artist’s statement,  _“'while psychologically drawing the viewer into the obliquity and precariousness of human existence.'"_  Kylo frowned. “Perhaps that line between reality and dreams? Which would be different depending on the experiences and fears of the viewer, of course.”

“The most impressive thing about this is that you were able to read that tripe with a straight face. Fucking Christ!” Hux exclaimed, his brows shooting beneath his fringe. “Twenty-five thousand dollars? I’m in the wrong business. Now this one, on the other hand…” He stopped in front of another painting, in front of which a small crowd had gathered.

Hux leaned in, his words hushed. “This artist’s strength lies in his gorgeous use of color. It’s sensitive and harmonious, and plays incredibly with light and space. Yet there’s also a darker element in the shadowy figure in the background, which adds a sense of foreboding to the otherwise airy atmosphere.” He smiled as the girl next to him nodded her assent, then dropped his voice even lower. “It’s an incredible turn on to be confronted with such obvious talent.”

Kylo’s ears turned pink as an attractive blush worked its way up his cheeks, although the tight lines around his mouth and eyes had loosened considerably. “The artist might be receptive to non-remunerative forms of payment. Considering what happened the last time you watched me paint that piece.”

Hux smirked, side-eying Kylo. “Just don’t let that get around. I think that kind of fundraising is illegal in New York.” The girl next to them gave Hux a long look, then glanced at Kylo before she gave them both a hesitant smile and moved on to the next painting.

“I’m pretty sure it’s illegal in all fifty states,” Kylo chuckled. “Behave now, before you scare away any more potential buyers.”

A delicate hand rested familiarly on Kylo’s shoulders, lacquered nails gleaming and perfectly shaped. “You’re garnering quite the buzz here tonight, darling,” the woman said as she kissed both of Kylo’s cheeks. She raised her thumb and brushed it along the curve; with a deft swipe, the remnant of her lipstick disappeared as quickly as it had materialized.  _“Sunset_ seems to be extremely popular; I’ll be surprised if it doesn’t sell before the night is through.”

Kylo strove for a modest look, but couldn’t hide his smile.  “Funny you should mention that particular piece.” He wrapped an arm around Hux’s waist, pulling him close. “Bazine, this is Armitage Hux—my partner, and my muse for the series.”

Hux opened his mouth as though to respond to greet the woman, but then glanced belatedly at Kylo, something soft in his eyes. Before Kylo could presume what he’d said to inspire that look, Hux cleared his throat, then kissed the air on either side of Bazine’s face.

“A pleasure,” Hux said with a smile. “And how do you know Kylo?”

Bazine’s cherry-red lips widened into a smile that showcased two rows of perfectly aligned, perfectly white teeth. “I’ve had my eye on Kylo for a while—ever since he was exhibited as a ‘Rising Artist’ in last year’s Artexpo. I found myself quite enamored with him. As well as his work,” she added with a tinkling laugh.

Kylo took a look at the growing furrow between Hux’s brows and slipped his fingers lower, so they rested reassuringly on the outline of Hux’s hips. “Bazine is the Gallery Director. As well as an unabashed flirt.”

“Please. It’s called maintaining good relations with the talent and the clientele. Besides, it’s never a good idea to mix business with pleasure. Although it is quite tempting at times,” she added, her eyes flicking over Kylo’s broad shoulders and ample chest with an appreciative sigh.

“Well, it’s a good thing for me that I’m not in the business then,” Hux responded, his lips curling as he bared his teeth.

“Hux is a surgeon,” Kylo explained.

“Ahh, I see. And apparently he cuts as skillfully with words and innuendos as he does with a knife,” Bazine said approvingly. “The pleasure is all mine, Dr. Hux. Especially since you’re apparently the source of inspiration for Kylo’s latest works; they’re truly some of his most moving and innovative, by far.”

Hux lowered his head at the declaration. “Is Mr. Snoke here?” Kylo asked. “I’d like to introduce him to Hux as well.”

Bazine shook her head. “Unfortunately, no. He was involved in the selection of pieces and price-setting, of course, and would normally be here on opening night. However, he had to fly out to California to secure a collection from a formerly reluctant owner who agreed to the sale at the last minute.” She flashed a smile. “He wanted to formalize the deal before they had a chance to change their mind. So I’m in charge, at least in the interim.” Her eyes widened, the first genuinely unpracticed expression to cross her face. “Which reminds me. Kylo, I need your signature on the copyright and security interest form. Doctor, would you mind terribly if I borrowed Kylo for a bit? It shouldn’t take very long.”

“Would it be alright if Hux—”

Hux waved Kylo off. “I’ll be fine. I’m a big boy; there’s lots of things to see. Champagne to drink. Canapes to devour.” He held up his price list for the exhibits; Kylo gave him a grateful smile, watching him fondly as Hux sauntered off.

Bazine arched a brow as she led Kylo to the back office. “Charming and unquestionably handsome. He’s going to ensure that you make this up to him, isn’t he?”

“Undoubtedly,” Kylo laughed as he looked over the rider to the contract before scrawling his signature across the bottom.

“A man after my own heart,” Bazine grinned back.

“As well he should; I dragged him out on what was supposed to be our date night.”

Bazine took the papers from Kylo’s outstretched hand and added it to his files. “Look; I know this is unsolicited advice. But you’re a rising star, Kylo. Your undeniably talented, and show incredible potential for growth. But the reality is that success in the art world is not solely based on talent. It’s timing, and luck, and a certain  _je ne sais quoi._ Certain things are uncontrollable, but what you  _can_ do is schmooze. It’s wonderful that you’re here with your partner. But this is not just a fun night out; it’s  _work.”_

Kylo let out a long sigh, the exhalation of his breath causing the tip of one of his locks to flutter up around his face. “I know… it’s just that our schedules have been impossible to coordinate lately. I want to include him in this as much as possible.”

“I’m not saying to ignore your man,” Bazine said with a frown. “But what would he do if you popped in to visit him at work? Scrub out of the operating room, forget about the patients that he’s scheduled for his office hours that afternoon? Spend time with him—but not at the expense of what you need to do. The beginning  _always_ requires the greatest investment from you. Make it up to him tonight, when this is all over.  And perhaps in even bigger ways, when you’ve become a famous artist.”

“Thanks, Bazine. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“So what are you doing standing around here then? Do what I do best!”

“Bat your eyelashes and look pretty while running things with an iron fist?”

She gave him a fond pat on the cheek. “Mingle, darling.  _Mingle.”_

Bazine’s laughter trailed after him as Kylo walked out the relative quiet of her office and back into the gallery’s space. He craned his neck past the server who walked by balancing an oblong tray of open-faced empanadas, angled his body to the left of an older couple who were arguing about a potential purchase under their breath, and gave an embarrassed nod to a woman who was studying the lines of his jeans with more attentiveness than she was paying to the surrounding art. It wasn’t a tremendously large space; Hux had to be somewhere in the midst of the meandering groups of critics and aficionados and casual observers.

“Kylo! Oh my god, is that really you?!”

Kylo turned around, a huge smile breaking out across his face at the man and woman who practically barreled towards him despite the looks of consternation on some of the attendees’ faces.

“Rey,” he laughed, grabbing the woman in a fierce hug. “Finn.” He shook Finn’s hand warmly, unable to hide his surprise and delight. “God, how long has it been?”

“Too long,” Rey said emphatically. “I think almost a couple years ago, when we shared a booth at the Astor Place street fair?” She grimaced. “Lost more money than I made that day; took me the rest of the week to recoup the difference.”

Finn’s face lit up, warming his handsome features. “Look at you now, though. Big times, Kylo.” His voice dropped. “There’s a couple reporters from  _Time Out_ and  _The Times_ here as well.”

“Yeah.” Kylo tamped down the small flutter of nerves which Hux had been able to tame earlier on. It must have been apparent on his face, because Rey gave him a squeeze.

“Come on, you’re brilliant. We always knew you’d go far. Just don’t forget your friends when you’ve made it big, okay? Especially those who’ve seen you working steadily for three days straight, strung out on a couple hours sleep…”

“Spending a good portion of your undergrad completely pissed or puking over a toilet,” Finn added with a laugh.

“Haha, point taken,” Kylo said. “Although I seem to remember both of you being right there with me. But enough about me; what’s up with you?

“Well, I’ve been focusing on sculpture primarily. Working mostly with steel.”

Rey rolled her eyes. “What Finn won’t tell you is that he’s also received some stellar reviews. Lots of references to life cycles and family and the need for nurturing. One of the reviewers said the themes were reminiscent of Louise Bourgeois.”

“That’s awesome, Finn! I’d love to see some of your work.”

“I’d like that. In fact, I’m getting ready for a show later in the year, at Pier 17. Rey’s shooting the pictures for the brochures.”

“You’re still together then?” Kylo looked down at Rey’s right hand, the slim, tanned line still devoid of any ring.

“Four years, going strong. Trying to make an honest woman of her, but she’s determined to be happy, living the rest of our life in sin.”

“Ahhh. But we’re having so much fun; why change anything?” Rey asked, rocking onto the front of her toes as she brushed a soft kiss on Finn’s lips. “How about you, Kylo?” she asked softly. “Anyone meaningful in your life?”

Kylo gave a soft laugh. “Yeah,” he admitted. “Very much so. Um… we’re pretty much living together at this point.”

Finn let out a low whistle. “How long have you guys been together?”

“Almost five months.”

“You may be closer to getting married than us. That’s a big deal for you.”

“So the free spirit’s finally settling down.” Rey’s eyes were gentle. “You’ve a lot of love to give, Kylo. So who’s the lucky person?”

The thought of extending what he had with Hux—of mornings entwined around each other in bed; of Hux’s gorgeous, patrician face screwed up into something disbelieving whenever Kylo doodled a silly and sappy note but unable to hide his smile; of Hux’s steadying breaths as his pale lashes fluttered shut, his face softening into something smooth right as he fell asleep—well, the thought of endless days of that left Kylo feeling a bit warm and weak.

“He’s here, actually. Let me introduce you… ” Kylo’s voice trailed off as he searched the floor once more. His mouth dropped slightly at the sight of Hux in front of one of the exhibits, a champagne flute in hand, the tense lines of his shoulders and thin set of his lips radiating his displeasure.

“On second thought… I just remembered something I have to take care of. I’ll find you guys later, ok? And Finn, don’t forget to send me the information about your show.”

Kylo approached Hux warily, pausing unnoticed at his shoulder. “Don’t care much for this piece?” he joked, referring to the abstract painting, all dark splotches and yellow lines, that Hux was staring down.

Hux glanced at him, champagne flute arrested midway to his lips. “It’s pretentious. I could have created this by stepping in paint and walking around on the canvas.”

Kylo stepped closer to him, smoothed a hand down his back, almost feeling him bristling. “You not having a good time?” he asked, knowing the answer already.

Hux snorted, draining his champagne glass just in time to signal a server striding by. He replaced the empty flute with a full one. “You seem to be, at least,” Hux said, frowning.

Kylo’s hand paused on Hux’s back. “It’s work,” he said quietly.

Hux turned, all but shrugging Kylo’s touch away. He reached up and took Kylo’s chin in one hand, squeezing his cheeks together. “Is using this pretty face to attract sycophants easier without your ball and chain?”

Kylo flinched, pulling his chin out of Hux’s grasp and narrowing his eyes. “Is that how you think I make my sales?”

Hux’s face was cold. “Isn’t that how the art world works? You shmooze the right people and make yourself a plaything for the rich?”

Kylo’s chest clenched, a stab of hurt lancing through his stomach. “I guess so,” he said. “You don’t need talent at all.”

Hux waved the champagne flute at the painting before them, champagne sloshing over one side to splatter on the floor, though Hux didn’t seem to notice. “Clearly you don’t,” he huffed with a laugh.

Biting the inside of his lip, Kylo took a deep breath through his nose. “Thanks, babe,” he said after a moment of silence. Then he watched realization start to register at last on Hux’s face, the gravity of his words sinking in, but Kylo was already putting distance between them before Hux could say anything else to ruin this night.

The brightly-lit walls now seemed harsh and unforgiving, the bold colors which dotted the canvases wavering as Kylo tried to steady his breaths. He found himself back in front of  _Sunset;_ the palette, which had once seemed so joyous and filled with life, now appeared trite and the color scheme too analogous. Even the title was unimaginative; it certainly didn’t invite the viewer to look beyond its superficial meaning, to relate it to any ‘precariousness of human existence.’

“Excuse me. Are you the artist for this piece?”

Kylo startled; he had been so preoccupied, he hadn’t noted the pair who had approached and was waiting patiently by his side.

He nodded once. “Guilty as charged.”

“A pleasure to meet you. I’m Cecilia, and this is my daughter, Kate. She’s a second-year student at Parsons,” she added with obvious pride.

Kate turned to him with a bright smile. “What my mom means to say is that we adore this work. I love the fact that you didn’t rely on the use of many complementary colors. Even though the individual colors are considered pleasing on their own, the lack of opposition creates—I don’t know, like this restless disharmony. It fits so well with the beauty and melancholy of a sunset theme.”

The pleasure Kylo felt at her words was almost doused immediately by self-doubt. He studied Kate’s ready smile, trying to see if that eagerness reached her sharp eyes. Or perhaps she was just making pleasant conversation, being a fledgling artist herself. Even if she  _did_ believe what she was saying, it didn’t mean that a jaded critic would have the same appreciation for what could be considered just another clichéd and overdone piece.

“That’s very kind of you to say. That line between beauty and something more sinister, of how easily light transitions into dark, is exactly what I was trying to convey.”

“I don’t know much of what my daughter speaks,” Cecilia admitted with a laugh. “But I know what I like.” She gave Kylo a sly smile. “In fact, I just purchased this piece.”

“You—really? I mean… “ Kylo took off his hat and scrubbed his face in disbelief, his eyes brightening as his lips spread into a wide grin. “Wow, that’s amazing to hear,” he exclaimed, shaking Cecilia’s hand. “Thank you so much!”

Kate laughed as she shook Kylo’s hand next. “Don’t let my mother fool you,” she said in a conspiratorial whisper. “She may not have had formal training in the arts, but what she does have is an unbelievable eye. She’s collected Otterness, Wiley, Thomas, Robak… lots of up-and-comers who have since become famous.”

“I informed Ms. Netal that I want to be informed if any more of your pieces come through.” She laid a hand on Kylo’s arm, the feel of it maternal and warm. “You’ve a lot of talent, young man. I’m excited to see what you come up with next.”

Kylo opened his mouth to thank her again when he felt a palm descend on his back, startling him. He glanced over his shoulder to find Hux with a lopsided smile plastered on his face and eyes fever-bright.

“I’m thinking of helping him come up with something right now, as a matter of fact,” Hux drawled, curling his fingers around Kylo’s bicep and tugging him away from Cecilia’s grasp.

Kylo’s cheeks heated, a tendril of irritation making his jaw clench, but he summoned the charm that he’d practiced all evening and turned a smile on his patrons once more. “I’m... this is Armitage, my partner.” The label tasted sour on Kylo’s tongue in that moment.

“Are you an artist as well?” Katie asked.

Hux gave an airy wave of his hand. “Only in the confines of our bedroom.”

Kylo’s color deepened as Katie giggled nervously and Cecilia let out a gasp. “What he means is… my studio happens to be in my loft. I’ve only recently convinced Armitage to try to express his emotions on canvas.” He tried for the smile once more, but it came out thinly as the muscle in his jaw twitched.

Cecilia seemed to sense the way the air felt suddenly charged, for she offered Hux only a nod and a prim smile and patted her daughter gently on the back. “It was very nice to meet you both,” she said, nodding at Kylo. “We both look forward to seeing more of your work in the future, Kylo.”

Kylo watched her walk away to give his blood time to cool, chewing on his bottom lip to keep himself from snapping at Hux. Nevertheless, when Hux squeezed his arm a second time, giving it a little tug to capture his attention, irritation sparked down Kylo's spine and made his fingers twitch.

“What is wrong with you?” Kylo hissed quietly, managing to sound more hurt than angry in his own ears. He turned his head in an attempt to give Hux a baleful gaze.

It didn't seem terribly effective, because Hux just smiled and reached up, cupping Kylo's jaw, fingers holding him still long enough to bring their lips together. The cloying vapor of alcohol clung to Hux's lips, making Kylo's nose wrinkle.

“I came to find you,” Hux said, and when Kylo tried to pull away, Hux drew him back for another hard press of his lips. Kylo pursed his own between his teeth, exhaling through his nose.

“I came to find you,” Hux repeated, letting go of Kylo's face to stroke Kylo's hair behind his ear, expression softening to something earnest. “So I could apologize.”

“By embarrassing me in front of someone that just bought one of my works?” Kylo asked incredulously, realizing his voice was pitched a bit to high for the current setting. His next words were hissed. “By making sexual innuendos in company like this?”

Hux's eyes darkened, and he pulled away. “Company like this? You mean people more refined and elegant than your imperfect partner?”

Kylo felt a sense of vertigo, like he was on a ship riding choppy, unpredictable waves; Hux's mood seemed like quicksilver, but then he was like that when he drank. “Hux... ” he began, but then caught an older gentleman watching them and the display they made.

“Come on,” Kylo said instead, tucking his arm around the small of Hux's back. “Let's go talk somewhere private, okay?”

Hux resisted at first, torso stiff, but then sighed and let Kylo guide him across the room, though Kylo could still feel the tension radiating from him as they walked.

The space that was brightly lit and lofty suddenly felt claustrophobic and small. Kylo felt the tension build as any possibility for privacy was seemingly thwarted at every turn. Several groups hovered around the paintings that hung from the gallery’s three large, floating walls, while the corners were occupied by the waitstaff, several reporters, and a number of visitors who seemed to be more enthused by the culinary—and not the artistic—offerings of that night.

 _“Shit.”_ The expletive startled one of the servers, who must have mistaken Kylo’s look of consternation for something else.

“Um… the men’s bathroom’s around the corner,” he offered helpfully as Kylo practically dragged Hux down the hall.

The room was sleek and marbled, and thankfully, outfitted with only a single stall. Kylo locked the door and leaned against it, regarding Hux, who stood with his arms folded in the center of the bathroom, his face turned away from the vanity mirror, toward the wall. His jacket was rumpled at the elbows, like he'd been crossing his arms all night, and his brows were drawn into a sharp angle over his nose.

“So is this because you're just pissed about date night?” Kylo asked. “Or are you upset about something else?”

Hux didn't look at him, but tilted his head up, looking at the ceiling; Kylo knew this posture—it meant that Hux was searching for the right words to say something that made him uncomfortable. It made Kylo deflate a little, realizing that whatever was going on tonight was more than just petty shrewishness and booze.

Hux finally looked at him, uncrossed his arms, and reached across the small space between them; he hooked two fingers beneath Kylo's belt and pulled. Taken off guard, Kylo nearly stumbled as Hux drew him closer, but Kylo let it happen, and as Hux leaned in and nuzzled the skin beside his ear, Kylo waited for him to admit something deeply personal, to explain his behavior tonight in a way that would shed light on some vulnerable part of himself.

“I don't like to share,” Hux said instead, voice almost a whisper in Kylo's ear, making him shiver and making his skin prickle.

Kylo started to pull back. He wanted to look Hux in the face and demand a better explanation than that, but at the first hint of movement on Kylo's part, Hux tightened his grip on Kylo's belt and caught his hip in the other hand and wrenched him closer. Then his lips were on Kylo's earlobe, hot tongue on soft skin, ragged breath in his ear.

“Hux,” Kylo said, getting a hand on Hux's hip, pushing weakly, but then Hux pressed himself closer, slotted their hips together, and Kylo felt the hard line of Hux's cock and his knees went weak. “Hux,” he said again, voice raspy. His own cock was filling, despite the logical part of his brain telling him that this wasn't the time, wasn't the place, that Hux was diverting the conversation, just like he always did when they fought.

Hux's lips were beneath his ear, then mouthing at the outline of Kylo's jaw as Hux wound his fingers into Kylo's blue and white scarf and pulled, the fabric sliding across Kylo's skin slowly before it dropped away. Some part of Kylo meant to object to it being in the bathroom floor, but instead he found himself tilting his head, opening his neck for Hux's lips while Hux worked Kylo's belt open.

“Why are you in this mood tonight?” Kylo sighed, stroking a hand down Hux's back, letting his eyes flutter shut.

"What mood?” Hux asked, voice low and barely audible as he nipped at Kylo's neck.

Kylo flinched as Hux bit down, hard enough it would be sure to bruise. “You're all over the place,” Kylo said. _Nurturing, proud, jealous, angry, apologetic, possessive..._

Hux didn't answer, but Kylo hadn't really expected him to. He felt Hux's fingers on the button of his trousers, felt the zipper tugged down, and then the weight of Kylo's belt pushed the pants down, pooling around his ankles, as warning lights began to flash in Kylo's brain.

He tried to shuffle out of Hux's grip again, suddenly picturing all the people on the other side of the door, all the people he was here to win over, but then Hux's hands were on Kylo's hips, spinning him around to face the vanity, a steadying hand between his shoulder blades coaxing him down, over the sink.

Kylo caught at the sink with both hands, palms flat, and he tried to find Hux's eyes in the mirror, but Hux was exactly behind him, obscured by Kylo's larger frame. Cool air touched his skin where Hux coaxed Kylo's boxer-briefs down, elegant hands and strong fingers cupping both globes of Kylo's ass, massaging, running over the shape of him in a way that was completely possessive and made desire curl in his stomach. Desire and shame, because Kylo should be out there at the gala party, out there meeting the people who would pave the path of his career; he shouldn't be in the bathroom with his pants around his ankles and his boyfriend... _ah fuck_...with his tongue in his ass.

Kylo rocked forward over the vanity with a moan, fingers going white around the edges of the sink, maybe all that was holding him up while Hux took him apart with his mouth. He had Kylo's shirt rucked up around his hips, hands spreading his cleft open, tongue hot and persistent. Kylo was too wound up to relax fully, and so he gasped when he felt Hux press two fingers to his entrance, push in with nothing but spit for lubrication.

The stretch was a burn, but Kylo's cock twitched where it was pinned against the rim of the sink, and he found himself rocking back on Hux's hand, close already, high on how fucked up this was. On how Hux was just taking what he wanted. His vision was clouded over with lust, and Kylo refused to look at himself in the mirror that was only inches away from his face.

Hux withdrew his fingers just as Kylo started to relax with an impending climax, staving off Kylo's release. There was a draft of displaced air behind Kylo as Hux moved, the sound of paper ripping, and Kylo tried to turn his torso to see what Hux was doing. But then he felt Hux's cock against him, slick with lube as it slid along his cleft, caught at Kylo's swollen entrance.

Kylo gasped as Hux pushed in with one, long stroke, and he heard Hux sigh and shudder against him where their bodies met briefly. Kylo suddenly wanted Hux's arms around him, wanted Hux's palm over his chest where he could feel how hard Kylo's heart was beating, and Kylo tried to reach back and find Hux, pull him closer.

But Hux wanted something else from their union, and all Kylo could do was keep himself upright, gripping the sink to keep his knees from banging into the cabinet as Hux slammed into him. Every thrust seemed too loud in Kylo's ears—skin on skin and the wet slide of flesh in, out, over and over until Hux came with a muffled groan, forehead dropping to Kylo's shoulder as he spilled hot inside him.

Hux’s movements stuttered; his fingers still dug painfully into the sides of Kylo’s hips as he ground against him, the darker, wiry hairs of his groin slapping up against the swell of Kylo’s buttocks once, then twice, before stopping as Hux’s chest came to a rest along the long length of Kylo’s back. The additional weight caused Kylo to pitch forward, his cock now trapped almost painfully between his body and the sink, his balls still full and tight. He held his breath as Hux’s right hand drifted down his side, his heart thudding in anticipation as he waited for the relief of those delicate fingers to wrap around his shaft.

Hux’s hand brushed imperceptibly along the outside of Kylo’s trembling thighs, before his palm slapped loudly against the marble countertop. Kylo swallowed as the motion was mirrored on Hux’s left; he stood still, his thick torso pinned between Hux’s arms, his prick still aching and swollen as a suffocating sensation settled in his throat and chest.

A small sound escaped him, needy and pleading. He angled his body, hoping that the subtle shift would serve as a reminder to Hux that he was still wanting and waiting, or at least give him the space to finish things off with his own hand.

The handle on the bathroom door jiggled. It pumped up and down, the metallic frustration of its failure to open echoing through the tiled walls as a curse was muttered on the other side of the door.

“Leave it,” a stranger’s voice said in irritation as Hux removed himself from Kylo’s back, the come trickling out of his ass along with Hux’s softening cock. “If you need to go that badly, there’s a woman’s bathroom next door.”

“Are you kidding me? That’d be twice the wait.” There was some rustling and the sounds of muffled laughter, followed by a snort.

“With how long this bathroom’s been occupied, I’m not sure it’s something you want to be walking into so quickly, anyway.”

Hux pulled up his trousers and tucked in his shirt, smoothing the cuffs several times until they appeared nearly respectable. He leaned around Kylo to run the faucet, the force of the water splashing out of the bowl and sullying both the mirror and the counter, before shouting at the door with a smirk.

“I’ll admit that some of that beak was a bit manky,” Hux called out in a thick Irish brogue as he gave Kylo a wink. “Left me with a bit of a scaldy ring. If you fine gents can just stall the ball, I’ll be out of your way in a sec.”

“Uh...yeah, that’s okay. Take your time, man, I’ll just use the one down the hall.” There were some more muffled noises, followed by a  _‘What the fuck?’_ as the clicking of heels on the polished concrete grew more faint.

Hux turned to Kylo. He smoothed the strands of his hair, appearing neatly put together, with no signs of the previous events aside from his neck’s fading flush. “I’m sorry, babe,” he said. His fingers brushed against Kylo’s dick, which had since flagged. “I know you didn’t get off; I’ll make it up to you when we get home, okay?” He leaned in, the tip of his tongue tracing a circle below Kylo’s ear, his breath overly sweet and sharp. He arched a brow when Kylo remained still. “Not that I’d be completely against the idea of taking care of you now, but we’ve been gone awhile. Don’t you need to make your final rounds?”

Kylo shook his head as reality washed over him. How long had they been in there? Five minutes? Twenty? He straightened, stuffing his protesting dick back into his jeans as he fumbled with the button, letting out a curse until it finally slotted through the hole on his third try. He rinsed his hands and ran it through his locks, squinting at his image as it was reflected by a soapy and spotty residue. He glanced around for his hat, noted its crumpled form in the corner, then brushed it off quickly after picking it up off the floor.

“Yeah; I should at least find Bazine, to see if there’s anything else I need to do before we go.” He looked at Hux; his green eyes were no longer possessive nor cruel, just... patiently concerned. “Do you mind if…? I mean, just to make sure…”

“Say no more.” Hux grasped Kylo’s chin, but unlike the first time, it was gentle and followed by a tender brush of his mouth. “I’ll make sure the coast is clear and stand guard outside until you're ready. You know—like your knight in shining armor.” He gave Kylo a crooked grin, a lilting tune on his lips as he unlocked the door, scanned the corridor to his left and his right, and walked out.

Kylo rested his hands on the sink. He slowed his breaths, his eyes drawn down to the joints of the faucet where the polished chrome had begun to tarnish. He stared and stared, his vision blurring until it all faded into nothingness.

“So you’re sure there’s nothing left for me to do?”

Those red lacquered nails drummed once again on the polished Brazilian lacewood. “Everything’s here,” Bazine said, pointing to Kylo’s folder. “You’ll receive sixty percent of the sales of  _Sunset_ and  _Reflections II;_ we’ll continue to exhibit the three remaining pieces for the next ninety days, although there’s also been a strong interest in _Hazy Night._  Since you’ve opted to be paid by check instead of a direct deposit into your bank account, you should receive your portion of the sale within ten business days.” She took a look at Kylo’s haggard expression.

“You sold two large pieces tonight, Kylo, and have a very strong interest in a third. That’s… well, it truly is an extremely strong showing, especially for an up-and-coming artist,” she said gently. “Cecilia Fisher is not only one of our most loyal patrons, but quite influential, and she’s taken a special interest in you and you work. It’s been a long night. Go and celebrate. Spend it with the good doctor, doing whatever it is the two of you do to mark your success. Mr. Snoke will contact you in the next couple of days to finalize any remaining details.”

Hux was waiting for him as soon as he stepped out of Bazine’s office. He was leaning against the wall, the long line of his legs encased in trousers of the softest wool, the bright overhead lights showcasing the various shades of orange and red and gold in his hair as the pink of his lower lip bloomed a little bit deeper as he worried it under his teeth. When he looked up at the sound of the opening door, his green eyes alight with something bright and joyous, and even here—in the midst of all these works of art adorned with price tags in the tens of thousands of dollars—he was still the most beautiful thing that Kylo had ever seen.

“Finished?” Hux interlaced his fingers through Kylo’s, his grip reassuring and warm. His flush had dissipated, and his eyes were clearer, losing some of that half-lidded, dilated gaze.

“Yeah…” Kylo turned towards Hux, offering him a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I sold two pieces tonight.”

“I’m so proud of you,” Hux murmured. He angled his body so that his hips came to rest against Kylo’s, his wet lips teasing the edge of Kylo’s mouth. “Let’s go home so I can show you how much. Or would you rather stop somewhere along the way?”

A different energy pervaded the gallery; the reporters were gone, and most of the buyers and artists had left. There was the clatter of serving trays and dessert plates as the catering team busied themselves picking up the discarded serviettes and half-eaten canapes which now littered the tables and even the more well-traveled sections of the concrete floor. Bazine and another staff member were replacing the placards on several pieces which had sold, while an intern was collecting the leftover brochures. It was louder and bustling with more activity than Kylo had seen in the previous two hours, yet the sight also left him feeling oddly deflated.

“No...I’m pretty wiped. Maybe it’s the aftereffects of the adrenaline rush, but—” Kylo held up his hands and shrugged.

“I’ll get a cab for us, okay?” Hux ran his hand along Kylo’s back as Kylo found himself sighing and leaning into the soothing touch. “And if you’re too tired to do anything else, I’ll give you a footrub and we can just watch Netflix. You know—Kylux, and chill.” He tilted his head forward, and his lips were insistent, warm and soft. Despite everything, Kylo felt his lips yielding, a soft moan building in the back of his throat as his traitorous cock gave a responsive twitch.

Kylo felt the corner of Hux’s lips curl into a smile as he removed his hand from the dip in Kylo’s back and grasped his hand as he led them out the door. Kylo squinted as his eyes adjusted to the darkness; there weren’t many businesses that were still opened this late in this part of the city, yet Hux still managed to hail a yellow taxi whose roof light was lit for service. They tumbled into the back seat; Hux barely had time to spout their address before he was practically seated in Kylo’s lap.

“You catching your second wind?” he asked, his chest pressing up against Kylo’s as his hand rested in the space between Kylo’s thighs, which fell open withouthesitation.

Kylo cast a quick glance at their driver, who was staring ahead at the red light with a been-there-done-that, I've-seen-it-all expression. As he dragged his eyes back to Hux, he caught sight of  _Sunset_ in the gallery’s window as it was being lowered from the floating wall.

Hux turned his head ever so slightly to look as well. “I hadn’t realized that they displayed your painting front and center. You should be proud.”

“I am. I’m—” Kylo took a deep breath, suddenly choked. “You know how much that piece means to me. To  _us._ I’m just glad it’s going to a good home.”

Hux watched for several seconds more as the bold and vivid canvas was placed with the aid of several workers onto a wooden pallet, leaving a blank, white space. He felt Kylo’s chest hitch at the sight, then jolt as the light turned green and the cab began to move.

“You’ll paint another one. And I have no doubt it’ll be even more incredible. Whatever the artsy terms are for ‘bigger and better.’” He punctuated his opinion with his mouth, full of greedy lips and tongue.

Kylo squeezed his eyes tight, trying not to think of that wall, now devoid of life and color. Hux was right; he could paint something in a similar vein, perhaps something progressive, something new. What he didn’t know was why the thought of it—or the feel of Hux’s kiss—managed to leave him feeling uninspired and uncomfortably empty inside.

**.~O~.**

On days like today, Hux felt as though the stairs to the fourth floor seemed to stretch into infinity, his feet plodding up each consecutive one counting off the seconds slowly, making time seem to dilate. The bag over his shoulder felt like it was full of lead, straining the trapezius muscle and chafing a brand into the skin beneath his shirt. He’d been awake for over twenty four hours, and the only thing keeping him going was anticipation, a giddiness that sat in his stomach like a strong coffee and made his nerves tingle.

He brought his key to the front door and barely had it slotted before he had to stifle a yawn with the back of his hand. It seemed to go on forever, making his eyes water and straining his jaw; even then, it felt like the intake of air his brain was begging for wasn’t deep enough, didn’t fill his lungs as fully as it should.

 _Jesus._ Maybe he needed a nap.

He finally got the door open and let his bag slump to the floor just to the side of it. The loft was a few shades dimmer than the early May evening outside, the furniture surrounded by shadows.

And it was quiet, when it shouldn’t have been.

Hux pushed the door closed behind him, so distracted by the unexpected tenor of his environment that he left his keys in the lock, and pulled the door open again with a sigh to yank them out. He dropped them on the floor, retrieving them this time with a muttered curse. When he finally tossed them into the ceramic bowl, the clink of metal felt hollow, and Hux noticed that Kylo’s keys were gone. He frowned, but was too sluggish to be alarmed. Kylo had probably run down to the corner store, or was dealing with some maintenance issue downstairs.

Hux shuffled toward the bathroom and peeled himself out of his clothes, leaving them in a lazy pile on the floor next to the hamper; it was the kind of thing he always chided Kylo about—unnecessarily slovenliness. Kylo always told him that he only got through half an action before he was thinking about something else, leaving the previous action in a state of incompletion. That was, he said, how creative minds worked.

His shower started off scalding, which was the temperature he always felt like he needed in order to slough off the way the hospital’s smells and chemicals and lingering emotional energy seemed to cling to his skin. He’d scrubbed himself pink before slowly coaxing the temperature down and found himself wishing again for a shower big enough to accommodate both him and his oversized boyfriend.

Hux felt marginally more human when he stepped out onto the bath mat, tugging a towel off the shower bar. Kylo always draped them there, which made them damp if they weren’t pushed all the way to the other side, away from the spray. Hux had been too tired to notice before, and with Kylo, there was never more than one towel in evidence at any given moment.

He dried himself off well enough, wiping away the steam in the mirror to peer at the circles beneath his eyes; it was almost a ritual for him, assessing the state of his slow decay into the living dead. Hux rubbed at his cheeks with the heels of both palms, trying to stimulate the capillaries beneath the skin to ward away the waxen look. He brushed his teeth, keeping his eyes on his reflection in a moment of quiet judgment. This, too, was part of his ritual—a moment of communion at the end of his day where he decided how well he’d played the role of being a compassionate human being.

He emerged from the bathroom expecting to find the loft bathed in warm light, to hear Kylo moving around in the kitchen and music, because with Kylo, there was always music.

And yet it was still quiet.

Hux padded to the chest of drawers beside their bed, not caring that he was nude in front of the expansive windows—this was an artist’s loft, and for all anyone knew, Hux was a figure model. The thought made him smile, a wan expression barely dredged out of his emotional consciousness, and as he dressed, he was thinking about the time Kylo had laughed himself to tears when Hux had stretched out on the couch with a silk tie around his neck and demanded to be drawn like one of Kylo’s French whores.

That picture was around here, somewhere. Buried in a deep, dark place never to be seen again, Hux hoped.

Hux settled on the edge of the bed, staring out the window at the city; it had begun to sparkle, like multi-colored gems gradually being pasted onto the skyline. A traffic light four stories below cast a red hue across the window glass, then green, then yellow. Hux had no idea how long he sat mesmerized by that, lost in a blank state, but he was finally shaken out of it by the jarring squawk of a car horn.

He rubbed the skin under his eyes with thumb and forefinger and yawned again, then decided that he’d be no use to Kylo this way. This was the first night he’d gotten home before nine in weeks, and he was off tomorrow, so Hux had looked forward to an entire evening with his boyfriend doing nothing but lounging together on the couch, ordering take out, and falling asleep in fucked out bliss.

As things stood currently, he was likely to fall asleep  _during_ his oft-imagined evening.

Sighing, Hux scooted back on the mattress and flopped inelegantly into the middle, grabbing a corner of the duvet and rolling up in it, trusting that Kylo would wake him when he got home.

Hux awoke in darkness, blinking away a pervasive disorientation, unsure if he’d slept for minutes or hours. He turned his head to look out the window, but gauging time that way was impossible in the city.

He sat up, peeling away the blanket cocoon. “Kylo?” he called, knowing as soon as the word left his mouth and dissipated in the silence that Kylo was not home.

Hux slid off the bed and crossed the loft, squinting through his glasses at the furniture, as though it might hold some clue to Kylo’s whereabouts. There was an open magazine on the coffee table that hadn’t been there this morning, so Hux looked at it, but it was only an article on bee populations. Kylo’s bag was usually beside the door, though only Hux’s rested there now—Kylo only took that bag when he planned to be out for something specific, something not solved in a few, quick minutes.

Frowning, a small tension headache beginning between his eyebrows, Hux searched his pants’ pocket on the bathroom floor for his cell phone.  He had one text, and he keyed in his password with a pang of worry, adrenaline starting to flood his system as he prepared to rush to the nearest hospital where Kylo was probably…

It was a short text, and Hux looked at it dumbly, having to adjust to how jarring it was in its simplicity. Just a series of heart-eyed emojis from Kylo and three letters, ILY, that said nothing about why Kylo was not home, or what he was doing.

Hux stood in the bathroom, bare feet on the cold tile floor while he typed a response.

**_Where are you?_ **

He waited for a few moments, thumb tapping anxiously on the side of his phone, feeling the minutes slip by while every catastrophic scenario he could imagine flitted through his head. He’d made it two steps out of the bathroom, intending to dress as quickly as possible, when his phone beeped.

> **_Down helping Finn get set up for his show. Miss u._ **

Hux stared at his phone, confusion giving way to irritation. Hadn’t he specifically told Kylo how much he was looking forward to spending time with him tonight?

**_When are you coming home?_ **

There was another long pause which left Hux grinding his teeth, before Kylo responded.

> **_Don’t know. Some other friends are down here so it’s kind of a thing. You still at work?_ **

A spike of anxiety stabbed through Hux’s gut, and his thumbs pecked in a response so quickly that he had to correct half the words before he could send it.

**_I told you I would be home early tonight. I thought you would want to spend time with me. I guess your art friends are more important. See you later._ **

Hux felt childish the moment he hit send, but anger made his body into a live wire. He resisted the urge to throw his phone at the wall, forced himself to watch the three little dots in the text client bounce up and down, stop, bounce up and down, and then finally stop just before his phone lit up with an incoming call. It was Kylo.

Hux bristled, thought about refusing to answer, but honestly wanted to hear Kylo’s excuse for throwing off their evening.

“What?” he bit off into the receiver, sounding curt for good measure.

There was a moment of silence, as though Kylo was absorbing Hux’s ire and deciding what to do with it. “Hey, baby,” he said at last, his voice small and apologetic. “I’m sorry. I forgot you were on a different shift tonight. I’ll come home.”

Hux inhaled through his nose, pacing into the kitchen. He started for the refrigerator, but something caught his eye on the counter. “I texted you this afternoon about dinner tonight,” he groused, fingers closing around the neck of a bottle of red wine that hadn’t been there this morning. He tilted it to read the label, frowning at it.

Over the phone, Hux heard something in the background give off a loud, metallic  _clang_ , and there was a chorus of shouts that dissolved into laughter. Hux heard Kylo trying to muffle his own amusement, making it little more than a puff of air into the receiver.

“I’m sorry, babe,” Kylo repeated, then shouted something with his hand covering the phone. The phone seemed to stay covered for seconds that felt longer than they probably were, and Hux could just make out the cadence of Kylo’s voice commingling with laughter.

Hux hung up on him. Not that Kylo had really been there. That had been the pattern lately; as Kylo had edged into the spotlight over the last few months, he’d accumulated a motley assortment of hangers-on, though Kylo would probably refer to them as friends. They certainly took up his time.  

The cell phone vibrated in his hand, and Hux gave the caller ID only a cursory glance before tossing it on the counter. The quiet electronic sound became an obnoxious, clattering buzz, like an insect. Hux watched it creep across the counter until the call disconnected.

He returned his attention to the bottle of wine, ignoring the phone when it rang a second time. There was a card attached to the bottle with a piece of glossy purple ribbon that curled cheerfully around the neck. Hux turned it over in his hand. 

**_“Kylo — You are both an artist and an artwork. Looking forward to seeing you shine. ~ S.L. Snoke”_ **

There was an entire box of the wine on the floor, shoved off to the side of the counter. Hux dropped the card, fingers quivering with a need to wrap them around S.L. Snoke’s neck. He glanced again at the label on the bottle, recognizing the vintage; it was a Chateau Lynch-Bages that Hux guessed was easily more than two hundred dollars a bottle. This, Hux supposed, was the kind of attention that Kylo wanted. The sort that he was out cultivating right now, while his boring, two-dimensional boyfriend sat at home alone, not even meriting an invitation to whatever gathering Kylo was out enjoying.

Hux reached to his right and jerked the ill-fitting counter drawer open, digging through the mismatched utensils until he found the wine opener. He stared at the bottle, then snatched the pretty, hand-written card and snapped the ribbon, tossing it onto the counter.

***

Kylo bounded up the stairs two at a time, out of breath by the time he reached their landing. He turned the doorknob, only registering that it should have been locked when it instead turned and the door opened. Hux never left the door unlocked, home or not.

He shouldered his way through, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He’d left the seaport at a fast walk and made it seven blocks to the Fulton Street Station in a record four minutes, then he’s jogged the last five blocks home, all the while feeling like he was trying to outrun an oncoming storm.

“Hux?” he called. Or wheezed, more accurately.

He was met with silence, which was strange. Hux liked to zone out with the television in the background, usually tuned to some kind of elucidating program like the  _Mystery of Dark Matter._  Glancing around, Kylo pushed the door closed behind him, giving it a last minute shove so that it cracked in the frame, hoping it would startle Hux out into the open, or at least allow Kylo to avoid surprising him. Hux was jumpy at the best of times, especially when he was home alone.

When there was no response from the dark loft, Kylo reached out and turned on the kitchen light. It took him a moment to assimilate the evidence of what had gone on in his absence—the coiled purple ribbon caught in the silverware drawer, a cork stained purplish red on one end lying next to the wine opener, which in turn was still twisted inside yet another cork. A splash of dark liquid marred the pale gold card that had earlier been attached to a bottle of bordeaux.

Kylo’s stomach sank, the feeling mixed with irritation and guilt. He shirked his bag beside the door and walked deeper into the loft.

He found Hux on the floor by the bed, back pressed against the frame, face turned up toward the windows. The light played in colors across his pale face, creating red, yellow, green, and blue versions of his features like a living Warhol painting. He didn’t look at Kylo, but Kylo guessed Hux knew that he was there, because his eyebrows came together and he took a long draw from the bottle of wine. His fingers looked thin and white against the green-black glass.

Kylo eased himself down onto the bed and felt the way the air was thick between them, like Hux was the center of a maelstrom, the air pressure in flux around him. Tentatively, Kylo reached out to touch his hair, which was lank and uncombed; Kylo half expected an electric shock at the contact of skin on scalp, but Hux was like marble. Cold and still.

Until he took another sip of wine. “What are you doing home?” Hux drawled with mock curiosity. “I thought you were spending time with the people you really care about.”

Kylo’s mouth hung open for several seconds, unsure how to refute that without sounding like he was apologizing for having friends. “I’m sorry, babe,” he muttered instead, all the good feelings he’d started the day with swirling around the drain. Something nagged at the back of his mind, telling him that the proportions of this interaction were wrong. That all he’d done was mix up a schedule.

Hux lifted his free hand and for a moment, Kylo thought he was forgiven, easily, but then Hux swatted Kylo’s hand away from his hair and shoved himself unsteadily to his feet, rounding on Kylo with narrowed eyes.

“Sorry for what?” Hux demanded. “All your fancy new friends? Your new life? Mysterious benefactors like S.L. Snoke?” Hux’s voice was a hiss, his  _r’s_  slurred at the edges.

Before Kylo could respond, Hux brandished the near-empty bottle of wine at him. “Or maybe this Snoke person... maybe he... she... maybe they aren’t that mysterious. What do you have to do to get a $3000 case of 2005 Chateau Lynch-Bages, be the piece of tail on the side?!”

Kylo’s mouth snapped shut so hard that he bit his tongue. “What the fuck, Armie,” he growled, tasting copper on his lips. “Why the fuck would you say something like that to me?”

Hux raised both eyebrows. “You tell me,” he hissed, wedging himself through the gap between Kylo and the dresser and heading for the kitchen.

Kylo jumped to his feet and followed him, feeling a heavy sense of deja-vu, taken back to that night at the gallery opening when Hux had accused him of selling art with bootlicking instead of talent.

“I came all the way back here to get you,” Kylo said. “There was a pre-opening night party and I wanted you to meet people. Art people.”

Hux set the bottle down on the kitchen counter with a dull thud. “Why? Because I made you feel guilty?” Hux didn’t face him when he asked this, and instead stooped to pull another bottle of wine out the box that had been a gift to Kylo.

Kylo’s fingers twitched as he fought the compulsion to physically take the bottle away from him. Not because he cared about the wine, but because Hux didn’t need it.

“Maybe you should cool it on the alcohol,” he said instead.

Hux had the wine key and was making a mess of the cork still attached to it as he tried to free it. He turned and looked at Kylo. “And maybe you should not tell me what to do. Ever.” He punctuated this last word by yanking the old cork free.

Kylo didn’t know what to say, could only watch as Hux opened yet another bottle. This time, Hux felt compelled to take down two glasses from the cabinet, mismatched pilsners from a local pub. He poured wine into both, unevenly, and held one out to Kylo.

“Here,” he said, gesturing pointedly with it when Kylo didn’t react. “Shouldn’t we be celebrating your new life?”

Kylo swallowed around a knot in his throat, angry words unable to squeeze past the hurt that choked him. When he said nothing, Hux slapped the glass back on the counter, wine sloshing like a miniature, encapsulated sea.

“Oh,” Hux said, as though he’d just discovered the answer to some secret. “I see.” He sipped his wine, smirking at Kylo. “You can only celebrate with the right people. With your new... whatever he is. Sugar daddy?”

That broke the dam in Kylo’s chest. “For fuck’s sake, Armie, Snoke is more than twice my age and not my type.” When the words tumbled out, they didn’t sound the way Kylo had meant them, like he was offering a reason why Snoke wasn’t more than just a benefactor.

Hux’s lips twisted, and the look in his eyes suggested that he hadn’t missed that. “Well maybe someone more to your taste with even more money will come along.”

Kylo’s eyes stung. “I thought someone good  _had_ come along. But I guess he can’t help turning into his father.”

It was completely the wrong thing to say, and Kylo knew it, but nothing other than wrong things had been said since Kylo had come through the door tonight.

Instead of rage, Hux merely looked shocked. His face drained of color and the glass of wine became a shield at chest level.

“I’m not sure I’m going to forgive you for that one,” Hux said, so quietly that Kylo thought it might have been words Hux spoke only for himself.

Kylo deflated inside, but his posture still felt rigid, defensive. “Armie. I’m sorry. Just…you turn into this...other person when you drink. So emotional…”

He’d meant to carry on with that train of thought, but was tongue tied in an effort to find the right words just long enough for Hux to set his glass on the counter and fix him with an incredulous stare.

“So...I’m this  _other person_ ,” he asked. “I only have  _feelings_ when I drink.”

Before Kylo could respond, Hux swept his arm across the counter behind himself. The two half full glasses of wine shattered on the floor, splashing red liquid and glittering glass like exploding stars. The red wine splattered the wall and the side of the counter like a crime scene, and the heavier bottle ricocheted off the wooden floor and rolled away, hitting the door with a crack.

“There.” Hux said, eyes still on Kylo. “No alcohol, still emotional.”

Kylo could only gape at him, having no rejoinder to such saturated logic.

They stared at one another, Hux’s chin tilted in challenge, until Kylo saw something flicker across his features. Green eyes widened and cleared, sweat broke out on Hux’s brow, and he slumped in on himself.

“Fuck,” Hux muttered. “I am my father.” He sank down into the floor, heedless of the mess. His bare feet were inches from jagged broken glass, and Kylo’s anger temporarily evaporated in concern.

He crouched down, snatching the glass shard away from Hux’s toes, tossing it in the sink. He started to pick up the others that were nearby, but Hux grabbed his wrist. Kylo flinched, and he saw that Hux registered that.

Hux’s eyes were swimming now. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I don’t know what...I’m…” He scrubbed his face with his hand, knocking his glasses askew on his nose. It made him look small and young.

Kylo sighed, sinking down onto the floor beside him, away from the pooling wine. Hux sat stiffly against the cabinet, staring straight ahead. Seeing the past, perhaps, and the fights that had raged between his parents when Hux’s father had been drunk.

“You don’t have to be like your father. Maybe we can find someone for you to talk to… “ Kylo glanced up, but when he was met with Hux’s unfocused gaze, he turned his attentions to the floor, gathering up several of the larger glass shards which lay uncomfortably close.

His hand jerked back as the edge of one pricked his skin; the paleness of it bloomed into a cornflower, then a purplish hue. His skin had always been so easy to bruise; it was probably the calloused pads, developed from hours spent with a paintbrush held between his forefinger and thumb, that prevented the splinter from piercing more deeply and drawing blood.

Kylo shuffled closer to Hux, his long legs still folded uncomfortably in a squatting position, until their knees touched.

“Hux?” He reached out tentatively; the fine strands of Hux’s hair fell through his fingertips before coming to a rest limply against Hux’s face. Kylo let out a sigh of relief as Hux finally stirred, turning his head ever so slightly until his wet cheek rested against the curve of Kylo’s palm.

For some reason, all Hux could focus on was the tiny bead of red that marred Kylo’s finger, bright and wet and out of place.

“I’ll try,” he breathed, almost a whisper. “I promise.”

**.~O~.**

The late May morning brought with it the promise of the sunrise at the start of their jog. Kylo stretched, the stiffness in his muscles protesting the earliness of the hour, as the swell of pinks and lavenders began to peek between the buildings in the distance and wash over the pier.

He bent down to tighten his laces, his eyes sweeping appreciatively over Phasma’s long and powerful legs. She always exuded competence, a cocky brashness which hid an underlying grace. For not the first time, he wished he could convince her to let him capture her striking beauty on canvas, but she had always turned him down, unable to sit passively for any length of time.

“Hey. Did you drag me down to Pier 40 just to stare at my ass, or are we actually going to go for a run?”

Kylo shot her a wicked grin. “But it’s such a fine ass. You know it’s in my nature to enjoy such beauty.” He let out a yelp of surprise as she gave him a good-natured cuff on his arm.

“It’s 5:30, and unless you have a tongue like Gene Simmons and look like Ruby Rose, I’m heading off on our run. Besides, doesn’t that boyfriend of yours keep this delectable body occupied twenty-four seven?” She gave Kylo’s buttocks a playful swat, then took off.

Despite Kylo’s long legs, he had to push to catch up to Phasma’s easy strides. “Well, he’s definitely keeping me busy,” he muttered under his breath.

Faint grey mist curled around their lips as they hit a rhythm and their breaths evened out. Several boats were already moored along the pier, the water lapping along their hulls as their flags and ropes whipped about their poles, making a fluttering, clanging noise. The occasional cry of a gull broke through the steady noise of their sneakers hitting the boardwalk, and Phasma remained silent for several minutes, leaving Kylo to stew in his own thoughts.

Finally, she cleared her throat, her blue eyes trained on the path in front of them. “Hux can be a handful, I’ll give you that.”

Kylo glanced at her gratefully. “He’s been… preoccupied.” A sigh escaped with his next exhalation. “Difficult, as of late.”

“Trouble in paradise?”

“I don’t know.” Kylo frowned. “I guess part of it’s been our schedules. You know how late you guys work, and I’ve been busy getting things ready for a couple of upcoming exhibitions. I barely see him at all, and when we do… it’s like we’re either exhausted, or there’s this pressure for everything to be fucking perfect.” He threw up his hands in exasperation, his strong fingers clenching in frustration. “I feel like I’m walking on eggshells around him.”

They turned, making a left towards the playing fields and batting cages, the morning light turning a soft yellow that cast a happy glow over the greenery. “I don’t know Hux in the same way you do, obviously, but I’ve known him for a long time. Ever since medical school—when he gets stressed or insecure, he closes down and gets defensive. He can be… extremely  _prickly_. Or, if you’d prefer, an extreme prick, although God knows, somehow the bastard can make even  _that_ seem endearing.”

“Yeah.” Kylo let out a small smile. “I know, but… fuck, it’s just that it’s almost all the time now. And it’s worse when he’s been drinking.”

Even though she tried to hide it afterwards, Kylo heard Phasma’s sharp intake of breath. “Hux was always one to tipple.” She hesitated. “Has it been more than that?”

Kylo squinted, the rising sun suddenly too bright for his eyes. “Not at home. We had a huge fight a couple weeks ago; he’d been drinking, and was upset and angry, and… words were said. Things were broken.” The dull flush at the base of Kylo’s neck, which had started ten minutes into their run, started creeping up into his cheeks.

Phasma slowed down imperceptibly, turning on Kylo with a piercing gaze. “Kylo. God help me, he didn’t lay a hand on you, did he?” Her blue eyes raked over every inch of Kylo’s exposed skin, looking for any tell-tale sign.

“No, he’s never… I wouldn’t be with him if he had.” Kylo met Phasma’s look equally, his eyes swimming in confusion and sadness. “He knows that he doesn’t do well with alcohol. We actually got rid of everything in the apartment, and he promised he’s going to get help. He’s had a difficult past… I can’t tell you everything, Phas, it’s not my place. But I love him, and _fuck,_ it hurts so much sometimes that I can’t do anything more…”

There was a rattling and a loud bark as a German Shepherd in a nearby dog run spied them and gave chase from within the fenced space.

“You know this has everything to do with Hux and nothing to do with you, right? You can’t blame yourself for the things in his past that have made him the person he is today. You can support him—help him create a safe environment, hold his hand, give him words of encouragement. But it’s the whole ‘leading a horse to water’ thing; any success in kicking this shit is ultimately up to him.”

“I know.” The frustration which Kylo had been holding in for all this time exploded, and he let loose with an uncharacteristic shout. “I  _hate_ feeling like this. I hate that I have to  _wonder_ whenever he comes home late, or that I find myself sniffing his clothes or his breath. I can’t stand that we can’t even watch a fucking game on TV without me screening the commercials for anything with the slightest  _hint_ of a drink. I really hate that I feel like his fucking parent, and I  _really, really_ fucking hate that I can’t enjoy sex with the man I love anymore without asking myself whether he’s trying to get one over on me!  _JesusfuckingChrist!”_ He stopped suddenly, his muscles protesting the sudden shift, his chest heaving with the weight of his anger and loss. When Phasma slowed down next to him and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, he crumpled into her arms.

“Oh, Kylo,” she said sadly as she wrapped her arms around him and held him tight. “You’re not in this alone. I’ll keep an eye out at work; I’ve been wondering… I mean, he has been working later and later, and even then, he’s falling behind in his charting and reports. I just thought it was because he’s been covering the SICU, but now… " She bit her lip. “If I see anything suspicious, I’m going to strongly suggest that he takes a temporary leave. If he refuses… well, he may hate me for it, but I can’t have him jeopardizing the lives of his patients, or doing something that means the permanent end of his career.”

Kylo scrubbed his face angrily, feeling the hot prickle of tears behind his eyes. “I want to be there for him, Phas, I really do. He’s had people disappoint him his whole life; what kind of person would I be if I can’t show him that he doesn’t have to go through this alone?”

“You are, and he doesn’t. But that doesn’t absolve him of his responsibility, either.” She leaned back and shook him fiercely. “You’re an amazing person, Kylo, one of the best I know, and with a lot of love to give. Just promise me this: if things are unsalvageable and Hux is a sinking ship, please swear to me that you won’t go down with it.”

**.~O~.**

“So, what do you hope to gain from this experience, Mr. Hux?”

He thought about correcting her, asking her to call him Armitage, but his stomach curdled at the idea of that level of familiarity.

“I don’t know,” he said. “What should I expect?” He crossed his feet at the ankles, uncrossed them. Pushed himself back, deeper into the couch, wanting it to wrap around him like a shell.

The woman across from him mirrored his posture, settling back into her chair and leaning on one arm. A notepad rested in her lap, blank and white against her navy pencil skirt. A diffuser perched on the table beside her glowed pale blue, filling the room with a soft aroma that reminded Hux of the ocean. The peaceful salt water and the damp sand and the warm sun. It didn’t fit with the way the window making up one half of the wall was just a cityscape, all gray and mist, a giant, sad ant hill.

He reached for a flimsy plastic cup of water, an offering on his arrival. He brought it to his lips, thinking the price he’d paid for this session should have merited a nice, china-cup of tea. Or a finger of bourbon.

He set the cup aside with a trembling hand. He swallowed, realizing they’d been staring at one another in silence, while she apparently was waiting on him to answer his own question. “I don’t. I’ve never done this,” he managed, his throat feeling dry despite the water.

His therapist, his judge, pursed her lips in a smile that seemed a mix of indulging and pitying, and Hux clenched his teeth. “Tell me how you feel, right now,” she said. “Don’t tell me what you think I want to hear.”

“Angry,” Hux sniped. He felt his forehead crease with the furrows that begged to show his age, the ones he had $200 creams to hide.

Colleen, that was her name, raised an eyebrow and nodded. Hux felt his cheeks flushing, and he forced himself to look out the window, and not at her.

“That’s a valid feeling, Mr. Hux,” she said. “Can I make an observation?”

Hux stared at her, and finally nodded with nothing more than a jerk of his chin.

She inhaled. “You don’t want to be here, but you do. Something is inspiring you, something bigger than yourself. Tell me what.”

Hux’s fight or flight response dumped adrenaline into his system, and the fine hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Every fiber of his being railed against admitting a flaw aloud, revealing a weakness willingly. But he forced himself to picture how he must have looked, slumped on the floor amid broken shards of glass and spilled wine—the way his father could have looked any given weekend, face flushed with drink and rage.

Hux took a deep breath that rattled in his lungs, pulled a pillow into his lap and clung to it while he forced himself to start talking.

He left the appointment one irrationally expensive hour later, feeling jittery and like everyone on the street could see through his skin and into all the secrets that had been stirred to the murky surface. He stood beneath the overhang of the portico, fumbling a cigarette out of his pack and lighting it with shaking fingers as he watched people stream by beneath a riot of umbrellas.

He didn’t taste the tobacco, only felt the smoke singeing the back of his throat, but he forced himself to finish smoking it while he counted the number of times that tires splashed through the puddle shrouding the overflowing storm drain just across the sidewalk. He’d finished his cigarette before he realized that the portico above him was leaking, a steady  _drip drip drip_ of dingy water that crept off the peeling, asphalt shingles and through the half-rotten wooden beams. There was a wet, rust-tinged stain on the back of his left shoulder, marring the fabric of his $1200 Boglioli silk and linen jacket.  

Hux cursed as he swiped at the spot, noticed with alarm that he was shedding ash onto that same suit with the cigarette he’d forgotten to toss down. He flung the butt aside and heaved a sigh, distracted from his near-ruined jacket by his phone beeping in the breast pocket of his shirt.

The text didn’t help his mood; Kylo had sent a message asking simply  _how’d it go?_ but Hux knew there was more to it. Kylo was checking to see if he was dutifully playing his role in this charade.

Hux put his phone back in his pocket without responding, blinking up at the gray sky and fighting the urge to ball his fist up and put it through something. To shred a cocky resident’s over-inflated ego. To go to a seedy club and pick up the first good-looking man he found, drag him home, and let him fuck him so hard he couldn’t stand up afterward.

More than all of that, though, he wanted to slink home and crawl into bed and hide in Kylo’s arms, feel the whisper of his breath against his ear, telling him that everything would be okay, and that he’s loved. Always would be.

But Hux knew he couldn’t have any of that, least of all comfort from Kylo. Despite the hopeful note they’d tried to salvage out of that evening that Hux had gotten drunk on S.L. Snoke’s expensive bribery, there was still a palpable tension between them. Hux felt like he’d come through the other side of that heart-to-heart no longer as Kylo’s boyfriend, but as some breed of poisonous viper, around whom Kylo felt he needed to move slowly and remain hyperfocused and tuned in to shifting moods.

It felt like he’d traded in his autonomy, signed away his free will so he could catch Kylo watching him out of the corner of his eye like he might suddenly transform into a ravening beast. So he could get these fucking texts checking on his level of commitment. So Kylo could give him that extra long hug when he got home, where he’d bury his face in Hux’s neck just to see if there was a perfume of alcohol saturating his pores.

The door behind him opened with the tinkling of a cheerful bell, and Hux flinched. A newly familiar voice was speaking quietly to a young woman who bid her goodbye and then circumvented Hux, pulling out an umbrella and stepping out into the rain. Hux found himself staring at Colleen, who hovered in the door and met his gaze.

Her eyebrows drew together in an expression of concern. “Mr. Hux,” she said. “Did you forget something?”

Hux realized he’d been digging his nails into the soft meat of his palms, and he relaxed the death grip, wincing as he felt the blood fill in the half moon marks. “Excuse me?” he said, disoriented.

Colleen nudged the door open a bit further with her hip, tilting her head toward the staircase that led to her second floor office. Hux noticed, for the first time, that she had a tiny tattoo of a rabbit beneath her left ear.

“I asked if you forgot something,” she repeated. “Since you came back to the office.”

Hux frowned. “I just stopped on the stoop for a smoke,” he said. “After I came out. Just now.”

Colleen’s smile did that thing that Kylo’s did more often than not these days—it curled down at one corner, became pensive, and Colleen chewed on the inside of her bottom lip. “Our session ended an hour ago,” she said gently. “Have you been here that entire time?”

Hux looked away, scanning the sky, as though that could give him an answer. He ran a hand through his damp hair, not caring about appearances. “I just needed to think,” he said slowly, feeling like the ground was suddenly very far away.

Colleen came fully outside then, the door snicking shut behind her. “Mind if I stand out here and think beside you?” To Hux’s surprise, she drew a pack of cigarettes out of her vest pocket and offered him one. He took it tentatively, unsure what the catch was.

It turned out there wasn’t one.

They didn’t speak to one another, and Colleen seemed lost in her own thoughts, watching the street and the passersby in the same, unpresent way that Hux had. They shared another smoke, until Colleen had to stub hers out just as a cab door opened across from them, offering up a tall man in a tracksuit who slouched across the sidewalk toward the stoop, head down. Belatedly, Hux realized that the man must be Colleen’s next client.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, warm through his mist-damp shirt, and he met Colleen’s eyes again. She winked at him. “See you next week.”

Hux did see her the next week, even though he told himself he wasn’t going to. He’d told himself that paying $300 an hour to talk about the fact that he felt angry was not a good use of his money or his time. In fact, he’d resolved to call Colleen the afternoon of his next appointment and apologize, tell her that he felt like he could work things out on his own and offer to pay for the missed session, but then Kylo had texted him and begged off their dinner plans claiming he’d gotten an offer to meet with a potential client about a commission. He hadn’t invited Hux, and so Hux had gone to therapy.

The week after that, Hux again told himself he was doing well enough; he hadn’t had a drink in fifteen days, and didn’t really miss it. Not until he agreed to go to brunch with Kylo and a new contact in the art industry. Hux could tell when they were getting ready that morning that Kylo was hesitant, kept asking him if he was sure he wanted to go, and Hux had to grit his teeth to keep from snapping at him. Turned out, that lunch wasn’t just with one person, but the contact’s friend, his friend’s friend, and at least three of that person’s friends; Kylo had been the star, in his element while he barely had a moment to look at Hux, and Hux had nothing interesting to contribute to the conversation. Mimosas and bloody marys had been flowing at the table, and Hux had shredded his napkin into bits instead of drinking one. The next day, he went to therapy.

The next week, Hux didn’t even question whether he needed to go. He just went. It felt like it didn’t make a difference, though, because after a particularly awful day at work he’d gone home hoping for a hot shower with Kylo, only to find a note saying Kylo would be home late. Hux had walked down to the corner liquor store, bought a bottle of vodka, and had drunk half of it while sitting in the shower by himself, furiously contemplating why Kylo had left a handwritten note instead of sending a text. Then he’d brushed his teeth, hidden the bottle of vodka in his drawer in Kylo’s dresser, and gone to bed.

The fact that he could only tell Colleen about any of it only made him feel farther apart from Kylo, like he was in a boat drifting off the shore, watching the mooring rope coil slowly off the dock, untethered.

**.~O~.**

The midday sun was hot on the back of his neck, the sun having dragged the shadows to the west while they sat across from one another. Hux held his hand over the screen of his phone, tilting it as he tried to get a better angle to read his work email. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kylo shift his chair in the opposite direction, away from him, and Hux blinked at him.

Kylo settled the chair into place with a scrape on the cobbled patio surface and met his eyes with a thin smile. “Shade,” he said, indicating the space he’d just vacated for Hux.

Hux scooted his chair gratefully into the cooler shadows that pooled at the base of the cafe’s brick facade, picking up his glass of ice water. Cold drops of condensation trickled down his fingers and onto the white linen tablecloth as he took a sip, the email from Dr. Jones now coming into focus. He clicked it with his thumb, and just as it began to load, his gaze flicked back to Kylo.

Kylo was smiling, only not at Hux; he, too, was looking at his phone, chewing on the inside of his bottom lip, which he did when he was trying not to laugh out loud. It used to be an expression Hux saw a lot of when they were out in public together because Kylo had to put in so much effort not to appear inappropriately amused at Hux’s off-handed social commentary, but now it seemed to happen because Kylo was trying to hide that other things, things outside of their life together, ever made him happy.

Hux sighed, laying his phone down on the table and pressing the button to turn the screen off. “Hey,” he said, reaching across the table and hooking two fingers into the crook between Kylo’s thumb and forefinger.

Kylo looked up, the corners of his mouth softening slightly as he took his thumb and rubbed it against Hux’s forefinger. “Almost done, babe,” he said as he slid his fingers out of Hux’s hold and rapidly finished his text.

Hux left his hand lying on the table for a few seconds, waiting for Kylo to look at him again, but after a few moments he started to feel foolish, and withdrew it. Curling his fingers back around his own cell phone, he turned it back on to go back to his email. As he did so, he glanced up to see if he could catch their server so he could signal for the check, and he noticed the couple at the table across from them.

The cafe was normally busy, but the weekend even more so as the transition from spring to summer seemed to bring out the city dwellers in droves. The small tables spilled out onto the street in an attempt to capitalize on the novelty of al fresco dining, and from their vantage point Hux could see not only the line of tables in front of them, but past the sidewalk and into the interior itself. Most of the diners were similarly preoccupied: kids scrolling through their Snapchats or taking pictures of their dishes to post on Instagram; a young mother placating her young child with an animated movie on Netflix; several college students waiting in line for a table with their earbuds in place or checking their texts; and an older man reading a story on his Kindle. He only had to move his chair eight inches to the right to be practically seated in his neighbor’s lap, but despite the proximity, he felt overwhelmingly bereft and lonely.

His gaze returned to the couple sitting directly opposite their table, puzzled at his fascination. They were moderately attractive, modestly dressed, and likely nearly a decade older, but the way they had smiled at each other, with their hands empty of anything else but each other’s had Hux’s heart pounding with envy.

After taking all this in, Hux glanced again at Kylo, hoping to find his eyes on him, hoping to meet his gaze to see that he recognized the same strange emptiness that surrounded them, but Kylo’s gaze was still on his phone. He did, however, seem to catch Hux turning toward him, because he looked up and gave him that same, wan smile from minutes before, like he’d forgotten that he’d already employed that expression.

“Maybe we should get out of here,” Hux muttered, trying not to sound cross.

“Sorry,” Kylo said, looking contrite. “It’s just that an old friend from college is in town for the weekend, and they’re trying to see who’s around.” He put his phone away in his jacket pocket, then reached out for Hux’s hand. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

Hux’s eyes darted down towards the pocket which held Kylo’s phone as he held his tongue. He wondered if it was guilt that had caused Kylo to put it away—guilt that their lunch was nearly over, when they had barely spoken a word; or guilt over the fact that he had to stop communicating with “an old friend;” or guilt over whatever had caused him to laugh and smile in that text.

“I’ll get our…” Hux began.

“Do you want to go to—?” Kylo asked.

‘You first,” Hux said with a wave of his hand as Kylo gave him a sheepish grin.  _Christ;_ it was just a fucking lunch, yet it was more awkward than a first date. Memories of the ease with which they had talked and teased on the morning of their first date in Chinatown, of their inability to keep their hands and lips off one another came rushing back in full force, and Hux pushed it away quickly lest their sweetness turn bitter and sour.

“I was wondering if you wanted to go to the Annex Flea Market. Maybe if we’re lucky, we can find you some long lost, first edition book. I’ll even spring for the entrance fee.”

“Sure you can afford it?” Hux responded, arching his brow.

Kylo laughed, the sound of it spontaneous and warm. When he covered Hux’s hand in his, the strong, calloused fingers dwarfing Hux’s own, Hux felt some of the tension that had built up over the last half hour ease.

“I think I can come up with a dollar. Anything for my baby,” he added as he leaned in. His lips ghosted quickly over the soft flesh of Hux’s cheek—a quick memory of its warmth, before it was gone.

Hux turned his head to reciprocate, but Kylo was already pulling away. To cover up his discomfiture, Hux finally flagged down their waitress, slipped her his credit card and quickly settled the bill.

They exited the restaurant and walked west, their arms sometimes touching, their hands occasionally linked until another person walked by, forcing them to angle their bodies sideways or separate. The sun was bright, the air was dry and occasionally scented with smell of prairie dropseed wafting over from the gardens of the High Line—a nice respite from the inevitable stench that would emerge from the streets in several weeks when the heat turned sultry and the city gave itself up to the dog days of summer.

They reached the Annex half an hour later—a large, asphalt lot enclosed by a chain link fence, topped off by numerous peaked, white tents and surrounded by expensive Manhattan real estate. The later hour meant that many of the wares had been picked through, but there was still a sizeable crowd, and the vendors were still haggling with their potential customers voraciously.

Kylo paid their entrance fee and they joined the flow of people into the market proper. Hux sought Kylo’s hand as they turned down an aisle to their right; it was heralded by a booth displaying license plates from all over the United States in various states of disrepair and old signs that looked as though they’d been pilfered from gas stations across the last few decades. They strolled past a table lined with scores of matchbox cars in reds and yellows and blues, and Hux marveled at the fact that table’s current customers were both men that looked his own age or older.

Kylo paused at a display of antique cameras, and Hux hovered beside him, watching the way Kylo’s large hands manipulated the turn-of-the-century device with such gentle care, and for some reason it made something feel both hollow and tight in his chest when Kylo set the camera down without turning to Hux to comment on it, to tell him what he found interesting in its design.

“Do people ever bring their art down here to sell?” Hux asked, seeking out Kylo’s hand and twining their fingers together. Prior to meeting Kylo, an open air market like this would never have attracted Hux’s attention—he had a hard time seeing most of the wares on display, like the large blue tarp scattered with mismatched chandeliers, as little more than junk. Cast offs.  

“Nah.” Kylo’s eyes skimmed over the rest of the antique photographic equipment that was displayed along the tabletop, dismissing them quickly. “I mean, a lot of artists used to sell their stuff at street fairs. I did a couple of those, especially when I was really starting out. But it’s gotten too expensive to rent space, and the number of fairs themselves have gone down, so most people I know rely on the internet or art cons unless they have an ‘in’ with a gallery.” He let go of Hux’s hand to pull out a tin box of daguerreotypes and started to flip through the silver-covered images. “That’s why I’ve been working so hard to keep up the relationships that I’ve made so far.”

Kylo said all this without looking at Hux, despite the fact that Hux was studying his face, watching his lips move. “We’ve all got to have those priority relationships, I guess,” he said, briefly wondering if Kylo would show more interest if he'd announced that he'd just grown a tail..

Kylo removed one of the plates from the tin; the surface was pitted in places, and in others, the mirrored surface slightly tarnished. “Look at this one,” he said, holding it up to Hux. “Most daguerreotypes during this period were portraitures; even the ones of families and couples were often formally posed.” He squinted at the image of the two frontiersmen who sat facing one another, a dog at their feet and sharing the spoils of their hunt. “It’s not just their personalities that are coming through here; you really get a sense of their camaraderie.”

Hux eyed the picture dubiously, a frown line creasing his forehead. “I don’t know,” he said. “They look kind of irritated to me. And isn’t one of them pointing a gun at the other?”

Kylo gave the picture another look then frowned, placing it back in the tin. A small sigh escaped him. “I’m done looking at the stuff at this table. Anything else catch your interest?”

“What?” Hux said, nudging Kylo’s shoulder with his. “Did I say something wrong? I was just practicing my art assessment.” He thought he heard a soft snort, but Kylo was already turning away, wandering down the aisle again.

Hux remained rooted in spot for a moment, nose tingling with a flush of humiliation—not only at the fact that Kylo had apparently ceased to find his dry humor amusing, but at the fact that the effort to lighten the mood hadn’t even registered. Like Kylo was tuned to a different frequency and Hux was no longer coming through.

Finally, the booth’s proprietor stepped up and asked Hux if he could help him with anything, the unexpected interruption making Hux flinch. He shook his head and tried to press his lips into a smile as he shuffled after Kylo. He caught up to him several tables down, having paused to examine a display case full of marbles that looked hand-made, like the ones he had at the loft on the coffee table.

“Is this where you got the ones you have at home?” Hux tried, for something to say.

“I usually haven’t found great vintage ones in places like this. These are incredible.” He lifted one out from the compartmentalized tray and let it roll between his fingers. “This one’s made out of clay. They were like some of the earliest ones to be mass-produced; not that rare, but this particular marble’s got an amazing pattern and it’s in perfect condition.” He placed it back, his eyes lighting up as he spied one towards the back. He plucked it from its holder, bringing it up next to Hux’s face. The marble was large, sparkling with bits of quartz crystals and shifting colors of light blue and brown and green.

“You’ve got good taste,” the seller said, coming to stand in front of Kylo. “That’s a hand-cut agate. The color and size makes it extremely rare. It’s a hundred and fifty dollars, but since you seem like a connoisseur and I’m in a generous mood, I’ll make it an even hundred.”

Kylo hesitated. “It’s got some pinpricks in it, though.”

“No chips, and for something of this size and age, that’s really unusual. I’d rate it at least in mint-minus condition.”

Kylo looked at Hux. “It matches the color of your eyes when you wake up perfectly.”

Hux smiled, the genuine stretch of it on his lips a welcome departure from the strain of their afternoon. Pleasure at the compliment curled warmly in his belly, and he could feel the vendor eyeing them. He tried to think of something clever to say about Kylo’s eyes, but he wasn’t the romantic type. At least not effortlessly, like Kylo. Instead, Hux swayed forward and kissed him softly.

“You get to see that every morning,” he murmured. “For free.”

Kylo broke out into a genuine grin, his lips slightly red from their kiss as his expression fell into something soft and gentle. “I can’t think of a more beautiful way to start off the day.” He turned back towards the vendor and handed him the agate, although Hux noted the way in which Kylo’s fingers lingered regretfully over the marble’s smooth curves. “Thanks, but I think I’m going to pass.”

Without knowing why, Hux felt strangely disappointed when the vendor took the marble back with a shrug and a good-natured smile, but he kept any evidence of that feeling from his expression when Kylo turned back to him. They linked hands once more and strolled to the end of the aisle and turned the corner.

Kylo slowed as they passed a table littered with an assortment of junk, his eyes seeming to rake across it absently. He let go of Hux’s hand and rubbed the back of his own neck, frowning at the display, and Hux thought he could understand why.

There was no discernable pattern to the items; there were small figurines of various make, from a brightly colored rooster to a pig with a tightly coiled pink tail that looked like it might be a salt shaker. There were glass bottles with fluted necks whose purposes were shrouded in mystery, strings of prayer beads, an old tin coffee canister stocked with tiny flags from across the world (or, probably, all from China). Hux was leaning over a blue plastic bin full of vintage postcards in crinkled plastic sleeves, flipping through them absently, when he saw something out of the corner of his eye.

A small huff of laughter escaped through his lips as he reached out and plucked up a pinwheel made from the aluminum of a Coca-cola can. He turned the edges of it, feeling its ease of movement despite the material, and he smiled as he turned to hold it up to Kylo, remembering that day in what seemed the distant past that he’d done the same thing with a pinwheel in that little shop on Main Street in Flushing, Queens.

Except this time, Kylo wasn’t there. Wasn’t hovering at his shoulder seconds from crumpling with uncontained laughter at Hux’s crass sense of humor. In fact, Kylo was nowhere to be seen, and Hux froze with surprise, the pinwheel aloft in his hand, spinning slowly in a dusty, warm breeze.

Hux suddenly felt exposed, adopting an immediate distrust for the sea of faces around him. When a young girl pulled her mother over to the table beside him, Hux flinched and replaced the pinwheel in the lip of the bottle he’d taken it from, but his hand was unsteady and he knocked it over, into a stack of old CDs. The precarious tower of discs slid sideways, smothering a herd of plastic dinosaurs, and Hux glanced across the table like a startled rabbit, saw the vendor was talking to someone else, and darted away, down the aisle.

He tried to blend into the sea of people even as he tried to avoid being jostled by errant shoulders. He scanned every booth that he passed, looking for Kylo, but by the time he reached the end of the corridor, he’d found no sign of him, and his head ached with a mixture of anxiety and irritation. He swam through the crowd to the other side of the commons, thinking perhaps Kylo had simply been walking without stopping to look at anything, but when he still found no sign of him, Hux circled back toward the first aisle they’d perused.

His cheeks felt hot, and he could almost smell the burning skin amid the other stinks of humanity. Sweat was beading on his forehead, and it stung where it trickled into one eye. He wiped it away, starting to truly panic when he felt a familiar hand seize his arm, closing gently  around his bicep just above the elbow.

Hux whirled, sucking in a deep breath, hearing his heart thumping in his ears. “Where did you go?” he blurted, the words coming out almost angry and breathless as Kylo gave his arm a reassuring squeeze.

“I told you I was going back to that guy.” He held up a small baggie; inside, the green agate marble rolled against the pliable walls, its color slightly dulled from behind the filminess of the plastic. “I’m sorry it took so long; he wouldn’t budge from a hundred bucks. But I couldn’t bear the thought of not buying it. It’s too perfect; it belongs with us.”

Hux let out his breath in a rush, relief fluttering wildly in his chest, mingling with his irritation as he eyed the marble. He plucked it out of Kylo’s hand, like a consolation prize for his stress. “Let’s get out of here, okay?” he pleaded. “I need a…” He almost said,  _I need a drink_ , which was his go-to phrase for needing to relax, but corrected himself at the last moment. “A cold shower and nap,” he finished.

Kylo fingered several strands of Hux’s hair, tucking them back behind his ear from where they had laid damp against the side of his cheek. “Shower sounds good,” he murmured as he gave Hux a mischievous look. “Even better if we did it together.”

*********

Hux could hear Kylo snoring softly beside him, yet his own head was pounding too hard to drift off himself. The pillow beneath him was damp where he’d lain against it with wet hair, fresh out of the shower--now it was warm and slightly stale with body heat, and Hux hadn’t been able to peel himself out of the sheets again to wash after they’d had sex. Now, however, he needed a bottle of aspirin, some water, and a damp cloth between his legs.

He slipped out of bed as quietly as possible, though it was never easy to wake Kylo, and he pulled on one of Kylo’s overlarge t-shirts before he padded to the bathroom to relieve himself. He cleaned off again with the tap from the sink running, tossed the washrag in the hamper, and then stared at himself in the mirror.

His forehead and cheeks were pink from too much sun, and he could pick out two tiny freckles that had emerged beneath his right eye. Hux cursed softly, knowing the discoloration of his skin wasn’t quite the charming process that Kylo thought it was.

He dispersed the image by opening the cabinet, rifling through the contents until he found a bottle of aspirin. Shaking a couple of them into his palm, he glanced down to the sink for a cup, but for once, there was not one. Hux sighed, pushing the cabinet door closed with more force than necessary, and his own image sprang back into view.

He’d talked his plans for this day out with Colleen in therapy the day before. Lunch with Kylo and then something fun they would both enjoy had been action steps Hux had devised with Colleen’s gentle guidance, steps to combat the gulf Hux felt growing wider between them every day. And Hux had been naive enough to have high hopes for it, had dreamed they’d have a deep discussion over lunch, reconnect, and then rekindle that easy camaraderie that had always been a hallmark of their relationship. Instead, this entire afternoon had felt like a poorly tuned instrument, one or two strings off just enough to make the chords sound jarring.

It had been like that since Hux had started trying to  _fix_  things. What the hell was he even trying to fix? Himself? Their relationship? None of the therapy he was subjecting himself to every week inspired Kylo to be home more often, it didn’t make Hux less anxious, it didn’t bring back that spark they’d always had in bed.  

Hux sighed, curling his fingers over the two pills in his hand and padding to the kitchen for a mug.

*********

Kylo blinked several times, trying to orient himself to his surroundings. The sun was bright, but it wasn’t the harsh and unforgiving light of the early morning, plus it was slanting in from the western set of windows. He stretched, his long legs reaching to the end of the mattress as his arms sprawled out, unencumbered. It felt strange, and it took his sleep-addled mind a second longer to realize that there was no irritated grunt in response to his space-occupying pose, nor a suggestive nudge to move his legs, or a pale arm to draw his body even closer.

He picked up his phone from his nightstand, squinting at the display. 7:10 PM. Another push of the button showed the flood of texts and messages that had come in over the last several hours.

Kylo groaned, scrubbing his face with one hand as he scrolled through them quickly. Several were from the gallery’s staff—important, but nothing that couldn't wait until the morning. There was one from Poe telling him about an upcoming audition, and one from Finn bribing Kylo with some Indian takeout and plenty of beer in trade for helping him (hopefully) dismantle his art installation.

The most recent one came in fifteen minutes ago. Another plea for Kylo to join his ex-college roommate and several of their friends for dinner and a night out on the town. Guilt washed over Kylo as his face settled into a frown; it had been several years since he had seen Aidan, who was not only an old friend, but who’d been one of his biggest supporters when Kylo had made the momentous and scary decision to drop out of NYU to focus on his art.

And it wasn’t as if Hux wasn’t invited to join them; Kylo’s friends would have gladly welcomed his boyfriend into the crowd. But aside from Phasma, Hux had never seemed entirely comfortable with  _any_ of Kylo’s friends. His drawl became longer, his biting remarks sharper, and his sense of humor drier, which only worsened as the size of the company grew larger. It never ceased to amaze Kylo that while Hux could command an entire medical team with brilliance and ease, his composure was tested by the most innocuous social settings.

Plus, it would be totally unfair of him to place Hux in a situation where there was certain to be a lot of drinking. A warmth spread over Kylo, a fierce rush of pride as he thought of how much effort Hux was putting into his abstinence. The loft was free of booze and Hux was coming home earlier from work, with the exception of those nights during which he had his weekly sessions with his counselor.

Kylo slipped out of bed, wincing slightly at the soreness in his ass. There were times where he liked to be taken, for their lovemaking to be rushed and rough, but tonight there seemed to be something else that was driving Hux. Something frantic, something that smacked of desperation. He looked around; there was no text from Hux, no hastily written note. There was no sound of humming or running water coming from the shower, nor the muted noise of chatter and canned laughter emerging from the television in the living room.

The quiet was suddenly broken by the sounds of clinking silverware and the thwack of a cabinet door. Kylo grinned; despite their late lunch, Hux was likely scrounging around for a light supper or snack. He padded over to his clothes drawer, frowning when he noticed that all of his comfortable, well-worn and stretched-out tees were gone. He moved next to Hux’s drawer, unable to suppress his smile; as much as Hux teased him for his graphic tees and all their silly captions, Kylo knew that Hux kept several hidden away for those times when they chose to stay in and lounge around.

He rifled through the first pile of short-sleeved shirts, careful to leave them as Hux had arranged, neatly folded and aligned. The next row contained long-sleeved tops—all slim-fitting and proper, without a printed design to be seen. The last stack was slightly more haphazard, with something larger and irregular hidden towards the bottom.

 _Gotcha!_ Kylo thought with a grin, sticking his hand underneath the entire lot of shirts.

His fingers scrabbled along something hard, it’s smooth surface rolling away from his touch. His smile faded, replaced by shock and then a furious, seething anger as he emptied the drawer of every article of clothing, the roaring noise in his ears barely drowning out the sound of the half-empty vodka bottle hitting against the side of the oaken drawer.

*********

Hux held the mug plastered with a rainbow under the stream of water from the tap, smiling as he remembered the day they’d bought it. Their first date, less than twenty-four hours after they’d met and their first kiss, the day they’d slept together for the first time, maybe the same day Hux had fallen in love with him.

He popped the aspirin in his mouth, taking a sip of the tepid water, wincing at the tang of minerals and rust. Hux thought again of asking Kylo if he wanted to move across town to his apartment, or maybe to look at one together, something that was a blend of them both, but the time didn’t seem right. It hadn’t for a while.

He was taking another sip to wash the pills down when a sharp sound, like a door slamming, made him bite his tongue in surprise. Cursing and holding a finger to his tongue, tasting salt and copper, Hux turned around to see Kylo standing in what passed for their living room, bracketed by the couch and the honeycomb partition. The way the light from the setting sun streamed in through the window behind Kylo cast his expression in shadow, and Hux squinted at him.

“Hey. Everything okay?” he asked.  

Kylo took a small step forward, his face still hidden by the fall of his hair, his body silhouetted by the backlighting. It was an uncharacteristically compact move, but his body was practically vibrating, each muscle pulsating with a dangerous tension.

“No, it’s not,” Kylo said. He was holding something behind him in his right hand, which was currently blocked from Hux’s view. “How’s the counseling been going, Hux?” he spat. “Is there something you need to tell me?!”

Hux stared, the mug of water aloft near his sternum, arrested on the way to his lips. Momentarily stunned by Kylo’s vehement tone, it took his muddled mind several long seconds before it started cycling through what Kylo could possibly mean. The worries that Hux had about Kylo were the first options he mentally carded through—whether he was planning to leave him, whether he’d found someone else.

“No?” Hux said cautiously, still frozen to the floor.

“You… " Kylo took another step forward. His face slowly emerged from the shadows in half-relief, the play of the light sharpening the angles around his eyes and cheeks, making them appear more rigid. He shook his head, as if to clear aside his original thought. “You lied to me. Lied to  _us,”_  he croaked out hoarsely.

Hux felt the muscles of his jaw tighten, an unconscious twitch in reaction to Kylo’s accusation. He narrowed his eyes in confusion. “What are you talking about? I’ve been more honest with you than anyone in my entire life.” A fine tremor had started in his hand, his pulse elevated as adrenaline poured into his system.

“Not a high bar to begin with,” Kylo grit out angrily. Any remaining restraint seemed to break apart as he bridged the distance between them and exploded. “I found it, alright? I believed you when you said you wanted to get help, that you’d stopped. Well, congratulations; you definitely played me for the fool.” He swung out with his right arm, brandishing the half-empty bottle like the sword of Damocles before he slammed it against the kitchen counter.

Hux flinched when the glass hit the countertop, feeling the color drain out of his face. He stared at the frosted bottle, the clear liquid inside settling slowly as Kylo’s words sank in. As they did, heat began to suffuse his cheeks again, making his skin prickle with ire.

“So, now you’re reduced to looking through my things?” he snapped, taking a step away from Kylo’s looming presence, turning his body so that his back was to the north wall of the loft. The image of Kylo rifling through Hux’s drawer made the hairs on his arms stand up; Hux’s father had done the same thing in his childhood, after the time he’d found Hux’s porn stash poorly concealed in the top of his closet. That same bitter humiliation bubbled up from his gut and burned the back of his throat.

“I was looking for my  _shirt!"_ Kylo shouted. He ran his hands angrily through his hair, making the ends stick up haphazardly. “I never, ever thought to  _‘look through your things.’_  Goddammit, Hux, I  _trusted_ you!”

Hux’s nose grew hot and moisture beaded in the corners of his eyes, whether from embarrassment or rage, he couldn’t decipher. “And I trusted  _you,”_ he retorted, his voice breaking as it rose in anger. “To do things like be home when you said you’d be home. Not to cancel plans. To put me before the rest of this…” Hux waved the hand with the mug in no particular direction, trying to capture the entirety of Kylo’s life outside of their relationship in the gesture. “...this bullshit you think is so important.”

“This…" Kylo’s face reddened, the corded muscles in his neck becoming more prominent. “You mean this bullshit that also happens to be my  _life?”_ He took another step closer, his fists clenched as his eyes flashed with anger. “Do you know what I did today? I canceled my plans, but not with you. With someone else—someone who’s also important to me, whom I haven’t seen in nearly three years. Because I  _do_ put you before everyone else, and now I’m starting to think that it’s all been a huge, fucking mistake—”

“A  _huge, fucking mistake,”_  Hux mimicked with acid in his voice. “About time you said that out loud. You’ve probably felt that way for months, haven’t you?” He realized dimly that his chin was tilted up, that he was balanced on the balls of his feet, which was just how he’d stood up to his father as a child, much smaller in stature. Like a bird, trying to make himself look bigger in the face of a predator.

Kylo sputtered, a temporary confusion and look of hurt replacing his anger. “What the fuck, Hux? This is like the longest… I’ve never… " His face hardened once more. “Stop fucking around. You never answered me about this.” He grabbed the bottle of Grey Goose off the counter and brought it up to Hux as his knuckles whitened around the bottle’s neck.

Hux’s own fingers were white around the coffee mug, now pressed against his chest. “What do you want me to fucking say? Yes, I came home one night... _one fucking night_... and sat in the shower and drank half of that bottle and felt sorry for myself because I was, once again, alone in this damn drafty loft without you. But then I sobered up, went to bed, and went to see Colleen the next day, and that’s where that bottle has been ever since.” His voice was shrill by the time he ran out of breath, and he sucked in air through his nose, suddenly overcome with the desire to flee, suddenly hyper, inanely aware of the fact that he was having this awful argument wearing nothing but a t-shirt that barely covered his ass.

“So you slipped. What’d you save the rest of it for then, hmm? For the next time I come home later than expected even after I’ve called? Or when my disgusting, drafty loft grates on your sophisticated aesthetic? Or when my bullshit job and life becomes too much for you to handle?” Kylo’s eyes narrowed, his tone turning unusually spiteful. “Come to think of it, you were pretty narked off all day today. You drinking now? What’s in the cup?” His gaze fixated on the rainbow mug and he moved even closer so that their feet were practically touching, Kylo’s nostrils flaring accusatorily.

Hux backed up reflexively, the movement disjointed as he nearly tripped over his own feet trying to get away. Then Kylo reached for the cup, and Hux snapped.

“It’s fucking  _water_ , you asshole,” Hux shrilled, and with all the force of the frustration and the tension he’d harbored for weeks, he snatched the mug out of Kylo’s reach, spun on his heel, and hurled it at the wall. It struck the brick just at the juncture where their sunset painting hung, placed there because Kylo said it would always be the first thing they saw when they came home and the last thing when they left.

Water exploded across the wall, staining the brick dark red and splattering across the surface of the painting. Pieces of the mug rained to the ground, and Hux stood in stunned silence as he watched the beautiful piece of art they’d made together rock on its hook and tilt precariously before it, too, hit the floor.

The corner of the canvas hit first, the wooden frame buckling and splintering, warping the entire work. The silence hung thick between them as the water slowly seeped into the wood, broken only by the harsh sounds of their breathing and the impatient honking of a bypassing car.

“Get. Out.” Kylo bit out, looking first at the remnants of the painting, then the broken shards of pottery, and finally at a point in the distance just beyond Hux’s right shoulder. Anywhere, it seemed, except at Hux.

Hux wanted nothing more in that moment than to do exactly that, his conscious mind withdrawing into a pinprick that allowed for nothing but processing the movements necessary to escape. His bare feet slapped against the wooden floor, almost at a run, and he would later not remember getting dressed. Everything passed in a blur, and even Kylo’s presence faded into the background as Hux finally jerked the door open and fled the loft.

He wouldn’t remember walking down the stairs, or the ride home, curled in on himself in the back of a cab. Or the way he dropped his keys twice trying to get his apartment door open, and how it smelled stale and unlived in. The way he’d picture himself on this day, later, was sitting on the edge of his bed, realizing that he was still wearing Kylo’s t-shirt, and that his shoes were untied.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments and kudos have meant so much to us! Thank you for keeping us afloat!!


	6. And After Winter Comes Spring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One and a half years after they last saw one another, the past finally catches up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, Cat, for your wonderful beta'ing and cheerleading. You're the best!! \O/
> 
> Some of you may have noticed the addition to the list of creators ;) @PangolinPirate has been such an huge part of this story from the moment she stepped in with her first piece of artwork. Not only has she continued to bring this story to life with her beautiful drawings, but she's been positive and enthusiastic in her support. She's become an integral part of this whole process, and we couldn't have done it without her! <3

 

The wind was balmy instead of bitter, and Hux found himself loosening the buttons of his jacket as he made his way crosstown. He had always thought of this time of year as its true beginning, when the torpor of the post-holiday blues slowly trickled into something more hopeful, especially with the arrival of Spring just around the corner. Still, the weather was unseasonably warm, hovering somewhere close to the sixties even as the rays of the sun were making their last gasp.

He slowed his pace as he glanced at his watch. Its face stared back at him, the numbers lighting up at 7:15, steady and unblinking. He didn’t want to be one of the first to arrive, nor did he want to be part of the crowd. He felt the heat rise to his face as he flashed back to the last time he had been to a gallery opening and swallowed hard, choking with embarrassment at the memory of his behavior.

For the hundredth time, he wondered whether his desire to attend the exhibition was due to curiosity, part of the healing process, his need for resolution, or one of the worst decisions he had ever made. He wondered if Kylo would even be there—and if so, would Hux have the chance to see him alone, and if he did, what would he say?

_I’m sorry._

_Sometimes, I still dream about you._

_Do you ever think about me?_

_Hi._

...

_I've missed you._

It seemed silly that he was left without a clear-cut plan, especially since Kylo had occupied nearly all of Hux’s mental capacity ever since he had stumbled across that fateful article in last month’s  _Time Out._

In the weeks that followed, Hux had read that article more times than he could count. He had hid that glossy copy from the coffee shop in a sheaf of papers, then slid it into his bag, only to take it out once he’d reached the privacy of his office. After work he had brought it home, thumbing through the pages so frequently that they eventually turned of their own volition to page forty-seven—a convenient time-saver, he discovered, when he was in the mood to stroll down memory lane and indulge in a bit of self-flagellation.

Over the next several weeks, the paper had crinkled and the ink grew smudged from salt-water splotches. He’d thrown it away, relegating the magazine and its recriminations to a trash bin under the sink. He didn’t need it—he had memorized every line that was fit to print, had that photograph already imprinted on his brain, down to Kylo’s smile and the way the left corner of his mouth had quirked up to reveal his slightly crooked teeth, as if he’d just finished laughing at something the photographer had said.

And if at times the image of  _that_  picture became a little fuzzy around the edges, there were others to choose from: Kylo lounging in the stairwell, his hat hanging halfway off his head, his mouth spreading into a wicked grin right before he leaned in to whisper something playful and seductive into Hux’s ear. Kylo at the movies, the flickering lights from the screen highlighting all the fascinating angles of his face, his large body slouching down in the too-small seat as if to apologize for his overwhelming presence and charisma as he took Hux’s hand and held it tight. Kylo in the morning, his lashes fluttering as he tried to clear the last remnants of sleep—his eyes still holding onto the dust of dreams despite the early morning light, dancing with amusement upon seeing Hux’s cranky visage, his thick brows lifting right before his forehead smoothed and his lips broke out into a breathtaking smile.

Most of the time, it was safer for Hux to keep those images locked away. But he caved that morning; while his body was starting to wake under the jets of the shower, the steam rising and forcing his blood to rush to every inch of his rousing body, he had allowed his hand to rest on his swelling cock. His wanking fantasies were generally vague: the stranger who spared him a covert glance as they crossed paths; an attractive someone drawn from one of his infrequent dates: or, more recently, the blond, British ex-pat radiologist who had just joined the hospital’s staff.

Hux had tipped his head back, welcoming the weight of the water beating against his skin as his thumb slid slowly over his flushed glans. The steam had curled up around him, scented with the sharpness of pine and sage, and he had felt the arousal swirling in his stomach as his cock grew fat and heavy in his hand. He slid his hand back and forth, slick with soap, the sides of his hand brushing up against his balls as his movements grew more urgent. But then his lover’s thin lips had morphed into a lush mouth, his sharp cheekbones changing into a pale and sloped jawline, his well-coiffed locks lengthening into a thick and unruly mane that begged to be grabbed.

He had ended his shower frustrated and unsated, and as the day progressed, the unease which dwelled within him lingered and bloomed. By the time his watch read 7:30, he had reached tenth avenue and his destination. As Hux placed his hand on the sleek, chrome pull handle of the gallery’s door, he was overcome with an overwhelming feeling of dread, anticipation, and déjà vu. But he reminded himself that he had not only survived—but conquered—much, much worse. So he held his head up high, squared his shoulders, and walked on through. 

**.~O~.**

A young man who looked no older than somewhere in his mid-twenties passed by with a tray and an appreciative grin. Hux declined the champagne, opting for a glass of San Pellegrino instead. He also bypassed the brochures with well-written blurbs about the pieces and the man of the hour; he wasn’t here to add a new work to his non-existent art collection, and it was likely that he knew more about the featured artist than just about anyone else in attendance.

Unlike the disastrous gallery show well over a year and a half ago, there were no pretentious flights of fancy. Each work had a brutal honesty, because every single piece was Kylo’s.

Hux stared at the first piece, so caught up in the swirling maze of intense colors that it took several attempts before the person who was speaking next to him to successfully capture his attention.

“Incredible, isn’t it? So much  _red,_ it’s just so  _saturated._ On the one hand I think he intends to show passion and lust and desire, but there’s also this undeniable undercurrent of anger.”

“I… ” Hux stepped back, trying to look at the painting through the woman’s eyes. He could see the emotions of which she spoke—not only in the intensity of the reds, which have somehow become individualized with the ingenious use of gloss and layers and shadow, but in the broad and tortured brushstrokes. Yet there was also something incredibly  _confining_ about the piece; it was as if the sum of Kylo’s feelings were splashed on every inch of the canvas, but without an appropriate outlet for their resolution.

Hux swallowed. “I don’t know.” Maybe it was that thread of anger running through the work. “I only know that this piece makes me feel quite sad.”

The woman nodded sagely. “This is quite a new direction for Mr. Ren. I think his earlier works were more visceral, and a bit more carefree. There was an honesty, perhaps a purity, an ethos to those pieces. For this series, he seems to have channeled pathos.” She laughed, a pleasant, lilting sound, and held out a smooth, manicured hand. “Look at me, spouting out the mouth, barely letting you get a word in edgewise. I’m Sabine Wren, art critic for  _Paper_ magazine. Are you a collector of Mr. Ren’s works?”

“Not exactly a collector. But I’m a huge fan of his… have been, from the very start,” Hux replied softly. “Armitage Hux,” he added, holding out his hand.

Sabine arched a quizzical brow as she shook it. Hux noted that she had a nice grip, strong and assured, but not off-putting. “What do you think about his foray into sculpture?”

“He’s… what?” Hux gaped; aside from the uneven piece of pottery that had served as a receptacle for their keys and various odds and ends, Kylo had never once expressed any desire to make three-dimensional works of art in the months that they had been together. The realization was both humiliating and upsetting—humiliating, because Hux felt as if part of it may have been as a result of his failure to see beyond his own interests and insecurities to learn more about Kylo’s artistic pursuits, and upsetting because… well, if the former weren’t true, then it was another indication of how Kylo had moved on without him.

“Oh, yes. He’s currently only showing two pieces, but they absolutely belong to this current collection. This one, for instance; again, there’s passion and anger, and a bit of your sadness as well. All that pathos…”

Any other words that Sabine uttered were drowned out in the roar which filled Hux’s head. His palms grew sweaty and his legs shook as he fought to keep himself upright.

 _Fuck_.

The piece was fairly small, but its impact was immediate. Hux stared at his reflection in the floating mirror, its broken edges and shattered surface taking his image and dividing it into multiple pieces.

“Powerful, isn’t it?” Sabine asked. “Some people find  _Fractured_ disturbing, but to me, there’s also something hopeful about it. It’s meant to show us that in some way, we’re all broken. But if you look at the bottom of the piece, parts of the mirror are glued back together, while others have the empty spaces replaced with colored pieces of glass. It implies that some things can be fixed; if not put back together in exactly the same way, perhaps in a manner that is equally or even more beautiful than it originally was.”

Hux looked more closely, at the mosaicked shards of yellow and green, and orange and blue. “He has nearly all the colors of the rainbow in there,” he said to no one in particular.

“Absolutely. It’s not complete; perhaps he is still striving, seeing himself as a work in progress. But rainbows have many meanings—in certain cultures, it can represent life and promise, potential and ascension. That’s why I feel that although the work is painful on first glance, the longer one looks at it, it truly represents forgiveness, transformation and hope.” A small frown crossed her face. “The only thing I’m unsure about is what the artist intended by this.” She pointed to the right and left hand corners, which contained yellow, ruled scraps of paper with a  _yes_ and  _no_ scrawled next to an empty box, respectively. “I can understand the ‘yes’ and ‘no’ as choices we are faced with to either remain broken or to better our lives. But the ruled paper... I’ll have to ask him about that.”

 _“Check yes, or no._ It’s like those notes we used to pass around in school. When asking someone out on a date seems like the most momentous and life-changing decision,” Hux whispered hoarsely.

“I guess we have choices to make at all stages in our lives,” Sabine added, although Hux was no longer listening. He closed his eyes, flooded by the memories of the bustling Flushing crowd, of overly-sweet and sticky sauce and jasmine tea, and of Kylo’s low laughter as Hux teased him in the door of that knickknack-filled store and drew him close.

That life-altering first date was over two years ago, and Hux could still smell Kylo’s scent, feel his warmth. The deep rumble of his gorgeous baritone grew louder and more immediate, sharpening and coalescing from memory to reality, and Hux whirled around, his heart in his throat.

Kylo stood, not more than thirty feet away, shaking the hand of a well-wisher with a look of genuine appreciation. He looked…  _God,_ but he looked radiant, his face glowing with his success, and simply and utterly beautiful.

Hux couldn’t stop staring. He found himself inexplicably drawn, his legs moving towards Kylo of their own accord, an expression of congratulations on the tip of his tongue, until another person came up to Kylo, armed with a fond expression and an air of pride and even possessiveness as he leaned in and kissed Kylo on the left, and then the right, cheek.

A sickening feeling overtook Hux as his stomach dropped, which only worsened when the man settled his hand familiarly along the small of Kylo’s waist. Jealousy stirred, flaming into something hot and terrible as he witnessed Kylo returning the man’s smile. The sight of their ease with one another made the bile rise in Hux’s throat, and Hux detested this silver-haired, sun-kissed, blue-eyed, impeccably-dressed Anderson Cooper wannabe with all of his being.

 _This was all a terrible mistake._ Of course Kylo had moved on with his life, but to see it played out in front of him…

A choked cry welled up in the back of Hux’s throat. He didn’t belong here, not anymore. But before his brain could order his traitorous legs to  _move,_ Kylo had lifted his eyes, surprise etched all over his perfect face as he stared at Hux head-on.

Hux watched as Kylo quickly tried to cover up his shock. His expression smoothed as he leaned towards his companion, whispering something into his ear before placing a kiss on that tanned cheek. Mr. Suave turned slightly towards Hux, nodding to Kylo, his hand dropping from Kylo’s waist as he gestured vaguely in the direction of the back offices before moving on.

Hux’s breaths were coming fast. He could feel the flush stain the skin along his collarbone and neck, positive that the freckled paleness now resembled something blotchy and angry. The time that it took for Kylo to bridge the distance between them seemed at once interminable yet too damned fast, and the heat was threatening to overtake his body as his heart battered against his rib cage and his lungs constricted. His skin was crawling, and his two-hundred dollar shirt was too scratchy, too tight...

“Hux.” Kylo’s voice washed over him. Hux closed his eyes, incredulous at the fact that the simple sound of his name on Kylo’s lips was threatening to bring him to his knees. It curled over the fullness of his lips, the hard consonant of it discharging into the air, lingering like a memory and then vanishing.

“Sabine,” Kylo said, turning  to shake the critic’s hand. Her eyes darted between Kylo and Hux, narrowing thoughtfully.

“This is a lovely exhibition, Kylo. In fact, Mr. Hux and I were just discussing  _Fractured;_ it’s incredibly instinctive, but also thought provoking.”

“It’s brilliant.”

Kylo turned towards Hux, his eyes flashing with something bitter before it was gone. “Not just something that looked as if I had stepped all over it?”

Sabine’s mouth dropped open ever so slightly; Hux could read the eagerness in her expression as she sniffed around for her next scoop. “Mr. Hux—when you mentioned that you were a fan of Mr. Ren’s works, you didn’t let on that you knew him personally…”

“He was more than that, Sabine. He was my muse for my earlier works.”

 _Still am, apparently,_ Hux thought as his eyes strayed over to  _Fractured,_ his lips pulling down at sight of its painful and jagged edges.

“Really?” Sabine’s shrewd eyes lit up at the news. “May I quote you on that?”

“I’ll do you one better. I’ll grant you my first post-exhibit interview. No question’s off-limits, although I can’t promise that you’ll always get a straight response. I just need to speak with Hux in private,” Kylo added, his eyes never leaving Hux’s for a second.

“Of course. I’ll have my assistant contact the gallery to set things up.” She gave them both an appraising glance before sauntering off, her stiletto heels clicking loudly against the floor.

“You’ve grown a lot more comfortable talking about you work and handling the press, that’s for sure,” Hux said.

“Yeah, well… the nerves on opening night still are something else, though,” Kylo responded with a wry expression.

Hux’s hand moved forward an inch, as if driven by muscle memory and the need to soothe the tension in Kylo’s shoulders. Kylo’s eyes had flickered with something resembling surprise, and Hux dropped his hand back down, so that it rested awkwardly and emptily next to his hip; he and he picked at the cuticle of his thumb anxiously. “I guess if there’s any time to be… I mean, it’s your first solo show.” He waved his hand around the space, at the works of art and all the people who had gathered to appreciate them.

“I didn’t realize that you still followed my career,” Kylo said quietly.

Hux shifted, feeling incredibly wrong-footed. “I... saw the article in  _Time Out,”_ he confessed, keeping his eyes focused on a small divot that marred the otherwise smooth surface of the floor. “To be honest, I’ve been a bit preoccupied, righting some of the things that have gone wrong with my life. But I’m really happy for you, Kylo.” He looked up, his green eyes shining brightly, his congratulations sticking uncomfortably in his throat.

Kylo’s stare was unblinking, and for a moment Hux thought that he wasn’t convinced of Hux’s sincerity, but then Kylo smiled. It was wan, almost sad, and it felt like being stabbed in the chest. Kylo’s smiles had once been so different, so full of light.

“Thanks, Hux,” Kylo said, and Hux couldn’t help analyzing the tone. Was it dismissive? Sarcastic? Then Kylo added, glancing over Hux’s shoulder, “So are you here with anyone?”

Hux hadn’t been expecting that question, and he gaped at Kylo in surprise for a moment. “Um, no. I uh. Haven’t really had time for anyone.”

Kylo looked at him square in the eye. “I can imagine; after all, alcohol’s a pretty selfish mistress.”

 _Shit._ Hux swallowed; with the way things had ended between them, he guessed he deserved that. “She is. In fact, she reminds me of that every single day, even though it’s been over six months since we broke things off.” He held up his glass in a mock toast. “Nowadays, I’ve given up gin and tonics in favor of San Pellegrino.”

Kylo’s expression yielded. “You have?” His eyes changed, their color becoming more vibrant, some of the bitterness lifting as if he were seeing Hux for the first time. “I’m glad for you. You look... good.” The sentiment appeared genuine, laced with the hint of sadness. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you, Hux,” Kylo added softly. “For you to be happy.”

Hux was pulled in for a brief moment by the sentiment of the conversation, unwisely perhaps. “If I’d have gotten to this place sooner, I wonder if things would be different.” He did wonder. He thought about it constantly.

Kylo looked a little lost; suddenly, his gaze shuttered and his body stiffened, as if erecting a physical wall.

“Wondering doesn’t change what was.” Kylo moved to turn, and Hux felt the world imploding, the background noise being sucked into a vacuum so all he could hear was the heaviness of his breathing as Kylo slowly retreated. He needed something—a connection to Kylo, the thread of something that told him that even in a shitstorm of pain, he was still capable of happiness.

“Wait!” Hux blurted out. “The painting we did together; I want to buy it.”

Kylo stilled. “It’s not for sale,” he said flatly, his gaze unreadable.

“Please.” Hux took a look around at all color that was spilled onto the gallery’s walls, but none of the works held the emotional thrill of that one piece with its uncertain brushstrokes, uneven layers of paint, and outpouring of love. “Please, Kylo. I’d love to have it as a reminder that there are things in life worth working towards.”

Pain and indecision warred on Kylo’s face, and Hux grasped onto a ray of hope. If the answer wasn’t an outright _‘No,’_ then it implied that not only did Kylo still have the piece, but that he was possibly considering its sentiment and meaning to them both. The silence stretched out interminably between them, until Kylo finally spoke, and Hux let out his breath with a  _whoosh._

“Do you still have the same number?”

“Yes—”  Hux took a step forward, taking out his cell to respond in kind, but Kylo halted his movements as he held up his hand.

“I’m not saying the answer is _‘yes,'"_  he warned. “Not everything in life’s for sale. But I’ll think about it; if I decide to, I’ll call you.”

“Okay.” All things considered, that had gone better than Hux could have hoped.

Kylo glanced at several onlookers who hung nearby, indiscreetly vying for his attention. “Look… I have to go. Um… take care of yourself, okay?”

Hux stood awkwardly, unsure of what to do. A kiss on the cheek was presumptuous and inappropriate, and a handshake signalled a distinct shift in their relationship that he was unwilling to face. By the time he had decided that a tentative smile and some departing well-wishes might be the best compromise, Kylo had already gone.

***

Hux had replayed those ten minutes endlessly over the next twenty-four hours, the sum of the last several years of his life condensed into a waiting game of hope and regret. But one day went by without any contact from Kylo, which slowly drew out into two. By the time a full week had passed, Hux had stopped his Pavlovian response of grabbing his phone whenever the initial strains of  _The Imperial Waltz_ emerged from its speaker while frantically checking the name which flashed over the screen. By the time two weeks had elapsed, his excitement had dwindled into sadness, and finally, settled into a resigned acceptance.

It was at two weeks and four days after the art show that Kylo finally called.

**.~O~.**

Hux stood outside the entrance to the restaurant, stepping aside as two men exited wearing nearly identical outfits of navy suits and striped ties, their cell phones glued to their ears. The place was teeming with the midtown lunch crowd, filled with business wear ranging from off-the-rack Hugo Boss to bespoke Michael Andrews, and not a single graphic tee to be found. It was a place so wholly unlike Kylo—so unlike any place that they used to frequent in the seven months that they’d been together—that he wondered for a brief moment whether it was all a form of retribution, and that Kylo had set him up.

He shook his head, trying to steady his nerves. A place that was entirely innocuous, without the faintest resemblance to anything that they’d shared, was probably the  _exact_ reason why Kylo had chosen this place. He tried not to think about the fact that Kylo was already seven minutes late as he stared down at his fingers—at their delicate shape, the buffed nails, the smooth skin.  _A hand model’s hands,_ Kylo had once told him, as he had traced their lines over and over again.

“Hey.” Kylo was looking at Hux with a strange mixture of wariness and sheepishness. He almost reached out towards Hux before he shoved his hands in his pockets, giving Hux a tentative smile instead. “You know how crowded the 6 train can get. Sorry I’m late.”

Hux smiled, dismissing the seven minutes. “It’s fine,” he said softly, also trying to find somewhere to put his hands. He settled for shoving them in his pockets as well, which was something that Hux typically never did. He immediately felt like he stood out, and cleared his throat.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Hux said. He chewed on his bottom lip for a second. “Do you um. Want to go in? Or?” He lifted a shoulder by way of gesturing at the restaurant. “Doesn’t really look like your kind of dive,” he added with a half smile.

Kylo let out a small laugh. “Yeah, well, they do make a mean mac and cheese.” A dull flush crept up his neck as his eyes shuttered. “Here’s fine. I have a meeting with a reporter on fortieth and third in like an hour.”

Hux’s chest clenched at the mention of mac and cheese, and he could picture Kylo’s grin when he’d tried to convince him it was good with sriracha. It never had been, in Hux’s opinion, and yet somehow he still missed it.

“Is this the same reporter from the gallery show?” Hux asked, pulling the door open for Kylo.

A small, pleased expression settled around the corners of Kylo’s mouth. “Yeah. She called me the next day to remind me of my promise.” He grinned ruefully as he nodded and held up two fingers to the hostess. “I never should have told her that no question was off-limit.”

“Oh?” Hux prodded as he shuffled behind Kylo and their hostess to a small table by the window. They settled across from one another, and Hux clutched his menu against his chest before realizing he was doing so, and he laid it on the table. “What kinds of sordid questions does one get asked in the art industry?”

Kylo rolled his eyes, his lips twitching as if to suppress a smile. “Artists have been creating scandals through their lifestyles and works throughout history. Some even through their choice of muses.” He looked down, suddenly preoccupied with the limited menu. “How’ve you been, Hux?”

Hux’s fingers were still on the edges of his menu.  _How had he been_. How did he answer that? “I can’t complain,” he said, even though he could. He could complain that he’d never stopped missing Kylo, not for one minute since they’d parted ways, and that he’d give anything to do it over. “I’ve taken up yoga,” he added, like that was the explanation for his current well-being. “Makes you very flexible.”

Kylo looked up quickly from his menu, swallowing audibly. “I... well. I’m sure it does.” His eyes flicked down the length of Hux’s torso before coming back to his face. “Not that you weren’t before.” He turned around in his chair and signaled for their waitress, albeit a bit frantically.

Hux’s cheeks flushed, and he flipped his menu upright to hide his face while he stared at it furiously. His belly was in knots, and he told himself this line of thinking...the line that made him want Kylo’s hands on him again...was pointless. It was just a pathway to pain. “So um. Do you have any new hobbies?” he asked, peeking over the edge of the menu at Kylo, pleased to see that Kylo’s face was similarly pink.

“I took a couple months off. Read a bit, traveled around the area, trying to find my inspiration. Nowadays, though, it’s been pretty busy, leading up to my latest show. I haven’t even had time to really—” He stopped suddenly, completely closing off his line of thought. “You said you were interested in our… in the sunset painting that used to hang in the loft. I’m not saying that it’s available, but I’d like to know why.”

Hux’s lips parted, and suddenly all the reasons that he wanted that painting were things he couldn’t say out loud. Not sitting across from Kylo in a crowded restaurant. How it represented everything in his soul that he dared to find beautiful, everything Kylo—and only Kylo—had ever touched. Suddenly, it didn’t seem like he could have one without the other.

Hux swallowed. “I think,” he started, then took a deep breath. “...that it will remind me that because I was once happy, maybe I can be again. Maybe it will help me to remember there is beauty in the world.” As soon as the words were out, Hux felt stupid. Sappy. It wasn’t the kind of thing he said. He turned at looking out the window, his eyes burning and unfocused.

Kylo remained silent at Hux’s confession. When Hux looked up, there was a gentleness around Kylo’s eyes, a contemplative expression, which quickly snapped into something resembling guilt at having been caught unawares when their gazes locked. “'The best and most beautiful things in the world can’t be seen or even touched. They must be felt by the heart.' Helen Keller,” Kylo said, as the muscle in his jaw twitched. “You'll only find it if you allow yourself to, Hux.”

“I did once,” Hux said, and then was grateful when their waitress interrupted the exchange, freeing him from getting any closer to grabbing Kylo by the front of his shirt and pulling him forward to kiss him. Either that, or springing out of chair and fleeing the restaurant. He’d thought he’d moved on, but Kylo talking about love made his stomach drop to his feet.

He managed to order a salad with a hoarse voice, and then wrapped both hands around his glass of sparkling water and stared into it, focusing on the way the bubbles rose to the surface, curving around the ice cubes and popping as they struck the air.

“A B.L.T. with avocado and aioli. Toasted sourdough bread, please. And… I’ll have a glass of seltzer water as well.” Kylo snapped the menu closed. His fingers curled over the edges as he handed it to their waitress; they were still thick and strong, and although his nails were well-shaped and more groomed than they had been in the past, there was still the hint of paint along the cuticles and folds. “Sooo… aside from staying flexible and work. What else have you been up to?” Kylo didn’t look at Hux directly, staring pointedly at Hux’s glass instead.

Hux let out a shaky breath, relieved at the change of topic, and looked up at Kylo through his lashes, warily. “I’m still seeing Colleen once a week. I quit going for a little while after we...after. Decided none of the efforts I’d made had mattered, and there wasn’t a point. But then I decided I couldn’t keep looking for the point somewhere else. Outside of myself.” Hux thought he sounded like a self-help book, but he went on anyway. “So I went back to therapy, and quit drinking.” He took a sip of his water, studying Kylo’s face for a reaction, realizing he was looking for absolution even thought he’d told himself he didn’t deserve it. Wouldn’t get his hopes up.

“You did all of that? That’s fantastic!” Kylo’s hand reached out as if through second nature towards Hux’s own, but withdrew at the last minute as he grasped the cloth napkin which laid on the table and shakily placed it in his lap. “You look great, Hux. Less… Fuck,” he exhaled, loud enough to draw a quick stare from the woman beside him. “I’m sorry. I knew this was going to be hard, but still... ”

“I’m sorry, too,” Hux said quietly. “I never got to say that.”

Kylo hesitated, his face at war with his emotions until the words finally tumbled out. “Oh, Hux,” he said, unable to hide the tinge of sadness in his tone. “Despite what happened between us, I’m glad to hear that you finally did—are doing—what you needed to do. You look healthier. More at peace.” He looked down at his napkin. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.”

Hux’s chest was tight, his lungs filling up with all the regret and the longing he’d felt since he’d walked out Kylo’s door. He felt like he had every time he’d looked at his phone for months after they’d broken things off, wanting to see a text or a missed call from Kylo, and wanting to show up at his loft and plead for another chance. He wanted to blurt it out right now, but fear of rejection held him back.

But he couldn’t help worrying at the thorn anyway. “So... are you seeing anyone?”

Kylo let out a long, slow breath. “No. Not really. No one meaningful.” His face pinked slightly. “I’ve been busy, getting ready for the last show; you saw how things got when we… well, anyway, my schedule’s gotten crazier still.” He looked relieved when their server set down his plate, then cut into his sandwich with gusto, causing the bread to crumble and the avocado slice to spill out from the edges.

Hux picked at his salad, not really hungry, and stole glances at Kylo as they seemed to mutually agree to an awkward silence. He couldn’t help remembering how soft Kylo’s hair was, or stop himself from wanting to touch it. When Kylo shoved a lock of it behind his ear, Hux couldn’t help remembering how those ears got flushed and warm when Hux used to tell him with a warm whisper against his skin how beautiful he was.

“Christ,” Hux sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and letting his fork go still against the side of his salad bowl.

Kylo cleared his throat as he watched the fork remain immobile, his own sandwich untouched. “Phasma told me that you’ve been taking on less administrative work.” The two spots of color on his cheeks deepened further at the revelation as Hux’s eyes widened in surprise. “Shit,” Kylo said, laughing softly. “Anyway. It’s good that you have more time to yourself. To spend on other things.” He looked up at Hux expectantly. “What about you? Are you seeing anyone?”

Hux’s throat went dry and he took a drink of water. “No,” he croaked. “Haven’t really had time.” That wasn’t entirely true. He’d had time to think about it, and had decided to fill it with other things. “I’ve been doing an extra shift every week at a city hospital. Taking on some charity cases.” Hux picked up his fork again and waved it, the impulsive gesture spilling a sliver of carrot onto the white tablecloth. “I’ve been trying to contribute for the good of society, help my fellow man. All that sappy bullshit.” He smiled.

“You know, I seem to remember you telling me something like that when we first met.” Kylo smiled, and his eyes lit up with undeniable fondness. “You don’t fool me, Armie. Underneath it all, like it or not, you are a sap.”

Hux remembered that night, and how he’d been single minded about getting Kylo back to his flat. “Except,” he said, lowering his voice with a sly smile, “I think that time I was talking about helping my fellow man out of his clothes.”

Kylo choked slightly, his eyes watering as he took a large sip of water. “As I recall, you did more than talk about it,” he retorted, his face reddening from the combination of his coughing and embarrassment.

Hux pinched his lips between his teeth to keep from grinning, and he could feel the heat spreading across his body, realizing this was neither the time, nor the place. And realizing how much, after all this time, he still wanted Kylo.

He tugged his napkin out of his lap and dabbed his mouth, clearing his throat and trying to focus on his salad, and not the blush on Kylo’s pale cheeks.

“Hux… why now?” Hurt flashed across Kylo’s face, his mouth tugged down into a frown. He laid down his silverware and rubbed a finger back and forth against the tablecloth, as if it would erase the nakedness of his emotions. “It’s been over a year and a half since we broke up, and I’d never heard from you again.” He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing furiously down the long line of his throat. “Art shows were never your thing. Why’d you come to mine, after all this time?”

The heat drained out of Hux quickly, replaced by the memory of lonely nights hoping that Kylo would call. “I thought…” he began, setting his napkin down at straightening the silverware into evenly spaced lines. “I thought you wouldn’t  _want_ to hear from me. After.” His eyes flicked up, but he could only meet Kylo’s intense, dark gaze for a moment.

“I almost called a hundred times. But then Phasma brought me that box. Of my things.” Hux’s voice got tight, remembering how he’d managed to sift through that box only enough to graze its surface, to see that it was everything that he’d left of himself in Kylo’s loft. He’d closed it and shoved it in the back of his closet, and it was still there. “I wanted to,” he added softly. He trailed off, realizing that he hadn’t answered Kylo’s last question, but he didn’t know how to describe his compulsion, other than to say Kylo had drawn him in like a magnet, and that he hadn’t wanted to resist it.

Kylo’s eyes fluttered shut. “God, I’ve always hated the fact that I’d given you back your stuff that way.” He opened his eyes, biting his lower lip so hard that the imprint of his teeth grew pronounced in the flesh, which swelled further with every passing second. “It’s just that you were  _everywhere,_ Hux. I smelled you on my sheets, saw you where the mattress dipped next to the spot where I slept. I found your fucking belt under the bed one day, from that time you tied me up… " He brought his hands up to his face, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand, his countenance pained. “I couldn’t rid myself of my memories, but I had to stop seeing you everywhere I looked. I wanted you to call, but was also terrified that you would. Because I didn’t know how I could resist you if you did.” He let his arms hang down, as he let out a long, shuddering sigh. “Anyway, after several weeks, I finally got up the resolve to pack up your things and asked Phasma to deliver them.”

“I remember that day,” Hux said, sighing, unable to look at Kylo. He didn’t want to add that he’d gotten obliterated that night, sitting in his closet beside that box, the t-shirt he’d worn home from Kylo’s loft clutched against his chest with one hand, and a bottle of scotch in the other. He didn’t want to tell Kylo how many times he’d done that before he’d decided it was enough, that there was nothing down there in that hole for him but darkness and loneliness.

“Do you think maybe,” Hux began, taking a deep breath, “it could ever be... different? Between us?” It sounded pathetic in his ears, and he instantly regretted it, but that was just his knee-jerk reaction. Colleen had encouraged him to stop telling himself he didn’t deserve happiness, to stop fulfilling his own dire prophecies. And so he let it hang in the air between them, even though the hand hidden in his lap was balled up, the fingernails digging half-moons into the soft skin of his palms.

The wistfulness on Kylo’s face was replaced by caution as his whole body stiffened. “I don’t know—it’s been so hard this past year, trying to move on. Trying to live my life again, without you.” He gave Hux a wry smile. “It wasn’t even fun, being able to throw my clothes all over the floor, without having you there to give me an eye roll as you picked them up.” He rubbed the pad of his thumb against the edge of his forefinger, at the hint of blue paint. “I tried to work through my feelings with my art.  _Fractured_ was my Colleen, in a way.”

Hux looked at him, picturing the broken pieces of colored glass, jagged and sharp yet oddly beautiful, and was suddenly possessive of all of it. It was him, and Kylo, and everything they’d had together and lost, just like the painting. He chewed the inside of his lip, weighing his next words, deciding on honesty even though it felt dangerous. “I can’t stand the thought of anyone else owning that.”

Kylo startled. “Um, well… ” he squirmed uncomfortably.

Hux registered the almost pained look on Kylo’s face, and his hand impulsively shot out to curl around Kylo’s fingers. “But if it’s out there, adding your beauty to someone else’s world, that makes me happy.”

The color of Kylo’s eyes deepened. He leaned a hair’s breadth closer as his fingers curled, the back of his hand pressing into the palm of Hux’s, and the sounds of the clattering utensils and businesslike chatter surrounding them became a muted backdrop as everything constricted to the space around their table and the focal point of their connection.

“Hux… “ Kylo breathed, his tongue swiping subconsciously over his upper lip.

The harsh buzz of Kylo’s phone vibrating as it skittered against the tabletop caused Kylo to flinch as the moment between them was broken. He looked down at the message, then back at Hux guiltily.

“I’m sorry. I can’t—” He shook his head, as if he were still dazed. “I’ve got to meet Sabine in fifteen minutes,” he apologized as he dug around for his wallet, then flagged down their waitress. “By the way, I’ve decided. I won’t sell the sunset painting to you—it never was for sale, to begin with. But I’d like to give it to you,” he confessed softly, “if you think it would help you on your current path.”

Hux gaped at him, belatedly closing his mouth and digging for his own wallet. His hand darted out at the last moment and snatched the check away from their server, earning an amused smile as though she’d seen this sort of duel a hundred times. Hux closed his credit card into the checkbook and handed it back to her before Kylo had a chance to object.

“Are you sure?” he asked Kylo as the waitress bustled away. For some reason, he felt like he’d passed some sort of test, though he did not know what the criteria had been.

“It was always yours, Armie. At least, as much yours as it was mine.” Kylo looked up at Hux with a faint smile. “I think it belongs with you now.”

Hux’s eyes burned, and while he was happy that Kylo had agreed to give him the painting, it somehow felt like closure he didn’t want. He regarded Kylo silently, trying to find some way to say what was in his heart, but he couldn’t put words to it. “Thank you,” he managed instead, his voice damnably hoarse with feeling.

Neither of them spoke while Hux signed the credit receipt for the meal they’d both hardly touched, and then he rose and waited for Kylo to gather his bag, pocket his cell phone, and drain his glass of water. It felt awkward, walking toward the door, like they were exiting a stage after an inept performance where they’d both forgotten most of the lines.

Hux held the door open for Kylo once more, and then they were on the sidewalk moments from walking away from one another again. It all made Hux’s throat tight.

Kylo shifted uncomfortably, the entirety of his body practically fidgeting as both of them looked around, as if wanting to flee the indisputable awkwardness of the situation, but not ready to let the other go. A passerby who was paying too much attention to his cell and not enough to his surroundings swerved closely towards Hux, and Kylo’s arm shot out to drag Hux away from the near collision.

Hux gasped at the suddenness, his nostrils flaring and filling with Kylo’s scent. It was the one that he’d started wearing a month into their relationship, the one which Hux had picked out for him that sat in a square glass bottle in the bathroom’s medicine cabinet, on the second shelf. It was woodsy and spicy, with the citrusy hint of bergamot.  _A sophisticated lumberjack,_ Hux had teased Kylo at the time, before applying the fragrance to Kylo’s pulse points and scenting the way it settled with Kylo’s natural musk.

The heat between their bodies flared as Kylo jerked back, his hands shaking as he righted Hux.

“Sorry…” he said, his eyes wild and voice cracking as he dropped his hand. “I’ve really got to go, or Sabine will have my neck. I’ll call you and we’ll figure out a time for me to deliver the painting to you, ‘kay?” He turned, practically fleeing from the spot, without waiting for Hux’s response.

Hux remained glued to the sidewalk, watching Kylo walk away. The spring sun was warm on Hux's shoulders, seeping in to wind around the cold pit in his stomach that harbored guilt and regret, and Hux almost called Kylo's name to stop him. To beg him to come back to give Hux just a few more minutes to sort through all the things he needed to apologize for. He'd told Colleen that he'd wanted to finally say goodbye, to close the door on the past and move on, but seeing Kylo again had simply flung all the doors in his soul open again, letting the light in, and Hux didn't want it to be over.

 _Yet down that path was only heartache_ , he told himself with a sigh, reaching into the breast pocket of his jacket. He withdrew a pair of sunglasses and slipped them on, his eyes relaxing in the glare. It allowed him to see clearly the way that Kylo stopped on the corner, looking back at Hux while people streamed around him. Then he rounded the corner and was gone.

**.~O~.**

Kylo lowered the canvas carefully to the ground, wrapping his arms around Finn in a fierce hug. “Thanks man, for lending me the use of your truck. And for carrying this up.”

Finn grinned. “‘No problem. Besides, don’t think I’m  _not_ going to come around collecting favors; I’ve got another show in a couple of weeks.” His smile slid slowly off his face as he stared at Kylo with concern. “You going to be okay?”

“Yeah.” Kylo let out a long exhale, looking down at the painting which was covered in brown paper wrapping. The bottom right corner jut out at an angle that was slightly out of alignment with the flat plane of the canvas—the imperfect remnant of the broken frame which seemed to persist despite all of Kylo’s efforts to fix it, yet which had now become an integral part of the entire work. “I’d introduce you, Finn, but… " His voice trailed, as he remembered the last time he had hung out with Finn, only to come home to a drunk and spiteful Hux.

Finn put a soothing hand on Kylo’s shoulder. “Look. I’ve never seen you talk about any of your past lovers the way that you did with Hux. Whatever this is that’s going on between the two of you, it’s obvious that there’s still a lot of things you guys have to hash out. No matter what happens—whether it ends today, or you guys become friends, or something else—you’re not going to be able to move on with your life until you do.” He chucked Kylo on the arm, laughing as Kylo gave a faux-wince. “Call me later, ‘right?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Finn. And tell Rey I said  _‘Hi,’_ and that I’m sorry I interrupted your wedding planning. Heard it was china patterns today.” He shot Finn an evil grin; Finn grimaced in return, then shot Kylo the middle finger as he departed.

Kylo steeled his breath, staring at the dark grey door, the brass buzzer which sat underneath the round peephole all-seeing but impenetrable. He lowered his hand and knocked.

He heard the deadbolt click and the metallic clink of the chain sliding out, and then the door inched open; it was soundproof, so when Hux appeared so did the soft melody of Mahler’s Symphony #5 Adagietto and the faint aroma of nag champa. Hux was barefoot on a hardwood floor, dressed in tight fitting yoga pants and a form fitting t-shirt, hair loose around his face, and for a moment Kylo felt like he’d entered a parallel universe. Then Hux spoke, and he came back to himself.

“Hi,” Hux said softly, offering Kylo a small smile as he pulled the door fully open and stepped back to give Kylo room to enter.

Kylo drank Hux in, staring at his tousled hair and slightly flushed face before his eyes dropped down the line of Hux’s shirt, lingering a bit too long at where the hem ended just below the waistband of his lycra-clad thighs.

“Hey,” he said, clutching the edge of the painting a little more tightly. His eyes flicked around the interior of the room, before landing back at Hux. “You said eleven, right?” His face colored. “I see you’ve been working at your flexibility.”

Hux’s smile transformed into a pleased smirk, a look that had always reminded Kylo of a cat. “I just finished my morning routine,” Hux said as Kylo edged inside the apartment.

Kylo saw a steel-gray yoga ball in the center of the pristine living room, the hardwood floor beneath it polished to a shine. He couldn’t help noticing that there were still no pictures on Hux’s walls, but there was a blue and purple Indian pillow on the white couch that Kylo had never seen before. It was so out of place as to be like a strange sun in an alien landscape.

Hux shut the door softly behind them while Kylo was still looking around, and with the click of the deadbolt, Kylo’s attention drifted back to Hux.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen your place in the light of day,” he confessed. “It’s… nice.” The walls were clean, the palette sophisticated and pleasant with a distinctly masculine edge, yet aside from the assorted yoga paraphernalia and the random decorative pillow, it was  _too_ orderly, too controlled, devoid of the sharpness and brilliance of Hux’s personality. He thought of the painting which lay hidden beneath its wrap, and wondered how it would fit in with the aesthetic of the space. A small part of him grew inexplicably angry as he remembered Hux’s comments about his art and his loft on the night that they’d broken up.

“Where do you want it?” he asked, leaning the carefully packaged canvas against the side wall. The line between his brow deepened as his lips thinned.

Hux’s smile faded and he chewed on his bottom lip, scanning the apartment. “I was thinking over the couch, maybe? Or... I don’t know. Maybe I can show you around, and you can see what you think?” Hux’s voice rose in a hopeful lilt at the end of the suggestion, and Kylo noticed he was clenching and unclenching one hand, which was one of his several nervous habits. Some things, Kylo guessed, hadn’t changed.

“That sounds good,” Kylo said cautiously. Things were still predictably awkward between the two of them, but not at the level of strained politeness that they shared at the cafe. The growing familiarity was both welcome and worrisome. “Let’s see what you have in the way of wall space and light.”

“Right,” Hux said, tension visibly falling from his shoulders, like he’d expected Kylo to say no and was prepared to weather the blow. He hesitated then, glancing around his apartment and seeming unsure where to start, then finally decided on the easiest choice.

Taking a few steps, he gestured to the left, which was the open living space in their immediate line of sight. “I liked this place for the view,” he said, walking farther into the apartment toward floor to ceiling windows that emerged from steel gray curtains.

There was a terrace beyond with wrought iron railing that offered, from this angle, a picture of blue sky peeking through the clouds. There was a solitary potted ficus tree inhabiting the square of light that fell across the hardwood floor, and seeing it green and flourishing was almost jarring, because the Hux he’d known was never home enough to care for a growing thing.  

Hux was facing the wall over the couch now, frowning. “I’m not sure the painting goes with the color theme though,” he mused, meaning, Kylo assumed, the leather couch and the burnished wood coffee table. Then Hux glanced at him, eyes widening slightly. “I mean, not that I mind. Just. It should be somewhere that does it justice.”

Kylo’s eyes slowly roamed around the room. The walls were large and tall, the color flat and perfectly finished, and could easily hold a painting or two. He wandered over to the massive windows; despite facing east, the older buildings which surrounded Hux’ apartment complex couldn’t match its height, which meant that there was unfettered access to the late morning sun which spilled into the room with a warm glow.

“The lighting in here is actually ideal,” Kylo said, turning back towards Hux. The next words died in his throat; Hux was staring at him expectantly, his lips parted in a tentative smile, the light teasing the highlights out of his beautiful strands of hair which surrounded the delicate lines of his face in a halo of color. It was a vision so fleeting, so ethereal, and so perfect, that it stole Kylo’s breath.

Hux’s brow furrowed as he shot Kylo a quizzical look. “Um…” Kylo cleared his throat; he could feel the heat creeping up his neck. “But we should take a look around the rest of the apartment. Just in case there’s something better.”

Hux regarded him for a moment, still hesitant, which wasn’t like Hux. Then he nodded, and turned to lead them down a hall. He waved a hand as they passed the kitchen, not turning his head to look at the concrete counters with the glass ceramic cooktop and the sleek and ridiculously pricey Gaggenau appliances. “That’s obviously not the right place,” he stated, before turning the brass knob of a door and pushing it open slowly.

He stopped beneath the awning, as though they’d never been in a bedroom together before. It was a smaller space than the rest of the rooms in the apartment; the walls were a darker grey and the wooden floors had a more rustic and unfinished look. Despite the similar color scheme, it felt so much more intimate and oddly domestic.

Hux looked back at Kylo, his eyes a steely green gray. “I guess this is really the only other place. It doesn’t belong in the bathroom or the hall. I suppose.”

Kylo eyed the expanse of wall behind the head of the bed; it measured a good eight by four feet, and with the sparse and clean lines of furniture, reminded him of a high-end cocoon. His artistic sensibility was filled with the sudden desire to cover it in something warm and colorful—at least, that’s what he told himself. If he looked a little more closely, the impetus was likely something much more personal.

“Here… it’s perfect.” Kylo’s lips curled downwards fractionally. “Well, I think it’s the best place of all. But perhaps you should look at the painting first, before you make the final call.”

Hux nodded absently, still staring at the empty space over his bed with his arms folded around himself, hands tucked under his biceps. To keep himself from fidgeting, Kylo guessed, fighting a sudden urge to embrace him protectively like he used to do, when Hux was out of sorts. Then Hux looked at him and offered him a small smile, breaking the moment when he spoke.

“Yeah. I can look at it. But I’m sure it goes wherever you think it would look best.” He sounded tired, suddenly, but before Kylo could examine that, Hux slipped past him and padded down the hall.

Kylo fought the urge to scramble after him, to wrap himself around Hux’s slender frame, feel the way his thin chest would rise and fall rapidly before eventually quieting into something softer like they used to do, twined in each other’s arms. He followed several steps behind instead, rubbing the inside of his wrist absentmindedly until he noticed that Hux had looked back, and noticed the significance of the movement.

Kylo grabbed both sides of the canvas. ‘I’ve got it,” he said gruffly. “Can you grab a pair of scissors while I get this to your room?” He maneuvered the painting sideways and made his way down the hall and back in the direction of the bedroom, careful to leave everything else untouched.

He set the painting on the floor against Hux’s bed, taking his phone out of his pocket to check his Instagram updates to have something to look at besides this intimate space of Hux’s, even though every detail of the room seemed magnified.

The blinds covering the window across from him were raised to align precisely with the midpoint, and the long white cord was missing the plastic end cap; it was knotted instead, and as the draft from the ceiling fan stirred it, Kylo realized Hux had made that alteration to keep from hearing the repetitive sound it would have made tapping against the wall. It reminded Kylo of the time Hux had insisted he could hear the faucet in Kylo’s bathroom dripping from their bed, and when he couldn’t make the old plumbing close off tightly enough, Hux had folded a dishrag in the sink to catch the water and mute the sound.

“You in a hurry?” Hux’s voice startled him out of the past, and Kylo looked back at him sheepishly, realizing that he had his phone in his hand still, though the screen had gone dark. Hux was in the doorway, a pair of scissors in his hand.

“What? No…” Kylo shoved his phone back in his pocket, unable to think of an excuse for his daydreaming. “Just waiting,” he added lamely. He reached out towards Hux, careful to avoid any prolonged contact with the softness of Hux’s hands, lest they set off another ill-advised trip down memory lane. He hunched over the painting and began cutting through the twine and tape. The bubble wrap popped loudly in protest as he tore through the layers, eventually reaching the final layer of foam.

The colors of the painting burst forth through the haze of plastic and resins, their vibrancy breathing life into the greys of the apartment. Kylo flushed when he saw Hux focus on the section where the colors were muted, their teasing quality dulled to a muddy brown where the canvas was warped.

“I know it’s damaged. I fixed the frame, as well as I could.” He hesitated, the loudness of it echoing throughout the small room. “It didn’t feel right, painting over it on my own.” His eyes slowly met Hux’s, as if to ask  _Is that okay?_ and  _Do you still want it?_

Hux visibly swallowed, stepping forward to grab the shreds of wrapping where they lay at Kylo’s feet, wadding it up, having to peel his fingers off the tape as he did. He didn’t speak for a few moments, and only when he’d gathered all the trash from the floor did he turn his eyes on Kylo. They were glossy with moisture.

“It still feels like more good memories than bad,” he said softly, like he didn’t trust his voice with more.

Kylo’s eyes softened. “It does, doesn’t it?” He reached into his rucksack and pulled out a hammer and a couple of molly bolts and anchors. “I can reach where I need to if I stand on your bed. Unless you happen to have a ladder?”

“The bed is fine. Just um…” Hux’s eyes roved down Kylo’s body and he bit his bottom lip. “Take your shoes off.”

Kylo snorted, although the sound of it was almost an amused fondness. “Wouldn’t think to do otherwise.” His fingers worked quickly to unlace his black boots, which, once loosened, were toed off quickly. He climbed onto the bed, hammered the fasteners into the drywall with a well-practiced eye, then hung up the painting as Hux helped him by supporting the right lower corner.

“There. Perfect,” he declared as he clambered off the bed. He stilled when he noticed the spiral notebook that lay open on the nightstand, the pages briefly ruffling from the sudden movement.

Hux’s attention had been focused on the painting until he saw Kylo’s head turn, and just as Kylo noticed the familiar piece of paper nestled in the notebook’s binding, Hux darted forward and snatched it off the table. He closed it and held it to his chest protectively.

“I can’t get used to those tablets,” Hux deflected. “Still like having something to actually hold. Better on the eyes too.”

Kylo looked into Hux’s eyes, at the green flecked with gold, so similar to the swirling colors of the agate marble which he kept at the center of his collection. “Hux,” he said thickly, raising his hand. His tattoo displayed prominently along the inside of his wrist; he knew well enough what was written on that three-by-seven inch slip of parchment, even as his fingers reached for it. Hux’s eyes were as big as saucers and his face pale, but he didn’t object as Kylo gently drew the notebook out of his grip. Kylo let it fall open to the page Hux had marked, and was transported back to yet another day in their past.

They’d barely known one another more than a month, and had been sprawled on the couch together, Hux warm against Kylo’s side, their bare feet tangled together. Kylo had been paging through a book on the development of written language, pointing out the more interesting and eloquent scripts he came across. It had prompted him to tear a page out of his notebook to doodle examples of the way their initials looked in different languages, until the idea for the tattoo on his wrist had come to him. Kylo had drawn the date he and Hux had met in several forms until he found the right one, the one that Hux had reached up to trace with the tip of his finger while saying  _that’s pretty_ just before he fell asleep against Kylo’s chest.

That was the only set of small symbols, one set among many, that Kylo had drawn a heart around.

“You saved it.” He rubbed the edge, the fibers unevenly worn from where the slip of paper had been carefully torn from his sketchpad. In some of the sections the black ink had bled through, while in others it had faded, yet there was no mistaking their form and beauty. He lifted it up, then noted the page underneath, filled with notations and drawings in Hux’s own hand.

Kylo turned back towards the nightstand, realizing for the first time that it was littered with notebooks in a rainbow of colors. He placed the notebook down on the top of the pile, rearranging everything neatly through force of habit, knowing how Hux liked to keep his things, when a loose piece of paper fluttered to the ground.

Kylo bent down, picking up the hand-drawn star chart as his amber eyes flashed with genuine confusion. “Yoga and incense and… astrology? Who are you, and what have you done with Hux?”

Hux flushed, the color pretty on his pale skin, and his eyes were that shade of pale green they got when he was anxious. He hesitated, reaching out to take the drawing from Kylo and looked down at it, contemplative. He tilted it then, so Kylo could get a better look, and now Kylo saw that there were notations and words delicately penned beside planetary bodies.

“Coping mechanism,” Hux elaborated. “I’ve been...writing this...story, I guess. Concentrating on it takes up all my mental energy, so I don’t worry about other things.” He let go of the drawing with one hand and gestured towards the pile of the small notebooks which Kylo had stacked neatly in the corner of the nightstand. “I make notes at work. I look like I’m busy, this way.” He glanced back and Kylo and smiled shyly.

Kylo leaned over. The strands of Hux’s hair tickled the side of his cheek as he looked at the profusion of color, of Hux’s imagination and thoughts. His finger traced along the binding of one of the notebooks, as he wondered at the words they would hold.

Hux had never shown any interest in writing before, aside from the lectures or research articles that he’d co-author with his residents and colleagues. Yet his mind was always working, dissecting the plot lines and holes in their favorite shows, or livening up a dull movie with his biting commentary and wit. Kylo thought back to the times where Hux would wander around a bookstore, his expression brightening when he discovered a new best-seller, or when he unearthed a leather-bound first edition of a classic at a second-hand store. The realization that Hux had discovered an outlet for his love of literature that was not only therapeutic but creative caused Kylo’s heart to catch in his throat.

“It looks like you’ve  _been_ busy.” He looked at Hux with a hopeful curiosity. “Can I ask you what your story’s about?”

Hux pulled the star chart to his chest, hiding it there without wrinkling it. “Just a science fiction thing. I think people call the genre  _space opera_. It’s about this galactic military leader with a tragic past who becomes an emperor,” Hux’s eyes flicked up to Kylo’s, “and the man he loves.”

Kylo’s stomach knotted, that same pain just below the ribcage that felt like a fist trying to squeeze too many feelings into too small a space. His lips parted to respond, both wanting there to be a double entendre in Hux’s words, and hoping there wasn’t, because this was all hard enough. Had always been hard.

He took a breath in, and Hux did too, at the same moment; it was a small, startled rush of air like Hux had just that one second above water before the tide pulled him down again.

“I haven’t decided whether to give it a happy ending, or not,” he said, eyes dancing over Kylo’s face as though trying to gauge his reaction, his understanding, in every detail of Kylo’s features. “I want to, though,” he added softly, and Kylo sighed through his nose—simply letting go of the pressure in his lungs.

He felt like he’d been holding his breath since he’d walked in the front door of Hux’s apartment, because he knew he hadn’t come just to deliver a painting. Because the painting was something more. A thread between them that had frayed and snapped.

He’d come because part of him couldn’t help wondering if it could be tied back together somehow.

Kylo drew his hand up, his thumb tracing the delicate curve of Hux’s cheek, watching as Hux’s gaze darkened. His heart hammered as he fought against the urge to bring his hand up, to run his fingers through the soft strands of Hux’s hair, to see how the shifting colors of reds and orange and gold fell against the paleness of his skin, to see the fluttering of those long lashes whenever Hux’s lips would part as Kylo drew him close.

Hux lifted his hand and curled his fingers around Kylo’s wrist, turning his cheek into his touch as his eyes drifted closed. Kylo didn’t see him move, but suddenly Hux was closer, and he was overwhelmed by the still familiar scent of lavender shampoo and warm skin. Then Hux’s green eyes, dark now, captured his own and one of them, maybe Hux, maybe Kylo, swayed forward and their lips met.

The sound that formed in Kylo’s throat was a low keen of relief, quickly swallowed by Hux’s mouth as they kissed. His fingers wrapped around the base of Hux’s neck as Kylo drew him even closer, his body trembling as a year of anger and want and longing exploded in the greedy exploration of lips and tongues.

Hux’s’s chest met his with a crinkle of paper where Hux still clutched the star map against his body, his other hand tangled in Kylo’s hair, short nails gently kneading the back of Kylo’s skull, making his whole body tingle. They still fit together so well, Hux’s body slotting perfectly into Kylo’s embrace, like they were meant to this way, with no space between them.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Hux whispered against Kylo’s lips, fingers tightening around a handful of Kylo’s hair, like he was desperate to hold on. “Every day.” His other arm finally looped around Kylo’s neck, body arching into Kylo’s hold, and Kylo could feel the way yoga had toned his figure, even if he was still soft and pliant.

Hux’s words filtered through the lust-filled haze. Kylo pulled back, staring at Hux’s face, at the half-lidded eyes that looked back at him brightly, the spots of pink riding high on his cheeks and his lips so swollen and wet. He looked utterly debauched, and eminently fuckable; it would be so easy to give in, to lose himself in the insane chemistry which they had always shared, yet the remaining sliver of logic in him screamed that it would be a bad idea.

He retreated slightly, even as his cock and practically every other muscle in his body protested the effort. “I’m sorry… “ he panted. “I… it’s too soon. I can’t.”

Hux blinked, and Kylo could feel a tremble in his narrow frame. He held Kylo’s gaze for seconds that felt like eternity before he nodded, though he didn’t move to break the space between them. There was an unspoken question on his face, and Kylo imagined it to be  _if not now, then later?_ He wasn’t ready to answer that.

Kylo felt the brush of notepaper against his neck, dotted with the stars and planets and the world of Hux’s imagination. He looked at the naked vulnerability in Hux’s expression, and realized that in a way, Hux was surrounding him with all that he was, as a form of both a plea and an admission.

“I’ve never stopped caring for you, Hux,” Kylo whispered. “But if we’ve any chance of giving this another go, we’ve got to do it right. I want to spend time with you—you and me, without the sex.” He gave Hux a lopsided grin. “As impossible as that may be.”

Hux nodded slowly, then leaned closer and kissed him again, gentle and chaste this time. When he pulled back, his smile was mischievous. “The yoga pants were probably a bad idea, right?” The fingers still in Kylo’s hair gave a gentle tug.

Kylo groaned again. “Your ass in yoga pants should be illegal. It’s unfairly distracting.” He brushed his lips over the bow of Hux’s mouth. “I’ll give you a call? Spend time on a proper date?” He shook his head sternly. “No stretchy materials allowed.”

Hux snorted with laughter, warm against Kylo’s lips.

**.~O~.**

Hux couldn’t help but be drawn, as they walked, by the utter intimacy that passed between Rey and Finn; it was like an unspoken language, like there were no barriers between them to diffuse their perception of one another. More than once in the short time since they’d been here, Hux had caught them laughing at nothing but a shared expression, and he remembered skirting the very tenuous edge of something like that with Kylo. Something he wanted back.

He was so lost in his daydreaming that he nearly collided with Finn when he suddenly stopped, jostling Rey back with the grip on her hand when she had kept on walking. Hux couldn’t see Finn’s eyes behind his aviator glasses, but it seemed plain enough that he was watching the train of glossy red conjoined cars as they were drawn inexorably up along the slope of the coaster that towered over them. The  _clack-clack-click_ was like the beat of a mechanical heart, almost drowned out by the din of the crowd and the excited, anxious calls of the car’s passengers.

“Oh, no,” Rey teased with a conspiratorial grin. “You said we were going to ease him in.”

Finn swept his hand towards the twisting mass of orange and white steel that traversed nearly half the length of the park. “But look. The way they designed it, with the loops, the turns, the drop… it’s a thing of beauty.”

Kylo snorted. “Right. That’s why you want to ride it. Because of its industrial aesthetic.” He cast  glance at Hux; a warm breeze blew off of the Atlantic Ocean, ruffling the strands of Hux’s hair until they fell halfway across his face. He reached up and tucked several strands behind Hux’s ear, laughing softly at the futility of the gesture as they fell back out of place. “Finn’s a sculptor. He’s been trying to get me to go on this ride for as long as I can remember.” He turned towards Finn, playfully narrowing his eyes. “Try all you like; you’re not getting me on that thing by appealing to my artistic sensibilities.”

A crafty smile secured itself on Hux’s lips; he knew a challenge when he heard one. Edging closer to Kylo so that their hips touched, he nudged him and bit one corner of his bottom lip. That particular look at always gotten him anything he wanted. It was rusty now, out of use, but it was worth a try.

“It looks like fun, though,” he said. “All... anticipation, build up, the sudden release after you get to the top?”

Kylo’s expression appeared to be caught somewhere between laughter and embarrassment. “I don’t know,” he murmured, ignoring Rey and Finn’s knowing looks as he turned his head to whisper in Hux’s ear. “Sometimes there’s something to be said for sure and slow. The gentle slide, back and forth.” He inclined his head towards the Wonder Wheel; the hundred-fifty-foot structure rotated slowly, several of the cars snaking along a sinuous track while others turned at a steady pace along the rim.

Hux snorted, but his grin widened. “Come on. I know that inner thrill seeker is there.” Hux turned his head away from Rey and Finn and leaned over to whisper in Kylo’s ear. “I recall an elevator with a camera once.”

Kylo gave him a pained look. “Going up thirty feet in fifteen seconds is a bit different from dropping down a hundred feet at fifty miles an hour.”

Hux finally glanced over and met Finn’s eyes, and an unspoken consensus seemed to pass between them. Just as Finn took the few steps toward Kylo, Hux linked their hands and tugged Kylo after him toward the coaster’s queue. Finn threw an arm around Kylo’s back and assisted in herding him along.

“Consider this peer pressure,” Finn announced.

Kylo resisted slightly, although Hux was sure that he could have easily balked his and Finn’s efforts… if not through his words, then through his sheer size.

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” Rey whispered to Kylo conspiratorially. “I’ll sit out with you; we’ll find something else to do while these two get their kicks, screaming and puking their guts out.”

“It’s okay, Rey. I’m in. But I get to choose something later,” Kylo added, looking at Hux pointedly.

Even after Kylo surrendered and allowed himself to be shuffled into the line for a seat on the coaster, Hux didn’t let go of his hand. He adopted his best aloof expression, pretending to be distracted by looking at the crowd milling around them, rather than meet Kylo’s eyes, which might have turned the whole hand-holding experience into an awkward thing. Hux realized it was a rather adolescent move on his part, but he didn’t much care. Kylo had a way of inspiring that mindset in him: impulsive and carefree, and slightly giddy. If Kylo was thinking anything was out of place, he didn’t say so. He kept his fingers threaded through Hux’s as they made their way slowly toward the entrance gate.

Rey slung her arm over Finn’s shoulder, whispering something into his ear that caused Finn to laugh at her fondly and place his lips softly against her cheek. Hux caught Kylo’s look as he glanced at his friends, his trepidation briefly giving way to something wistful. Something hopeful.

“Thanks for coming out with us today,” he said softly as he squeezed Hux’s hand, the strength in his grip coming from a place more than just his anticipation of the ride.

Hux squeezed his hand in return, rubbing his thumb across the top of it. “Thanks for asking me, too,” he said softly. “This kind of feels like that… ” he almost said  _date_ , but wasn’t sure he ought to overtly imply that today. Yet. “Like that morning after we first met.”

Kylo turned towards Hux; his eyes, which were already the color of a molten gold from the brightness of the sun, seemed to churn even further. “It does.” He peeked at Hux from under his impossibly long lashes. “But different. Maybe even better.”

“Come on, you two, we’re up next!” Finn shouted as the line of cars came up to the turnstile. He turned his head towards them and gave Kylo a wink.

Hux didn’t have time to respond to Kylo’s suggestion that maybe today was better, though as he wedged himself into a seat in a car beside him, it seemed that very well might be true.

Promptly after that, Hux didn’t have time to think about anything at all, other than holding on for dear life and wondering what in the hell he’d been thinking. Somewhere near the crest of the second steep drop, Kylo reached out, peeled Hux’s white knuckled hand off the bar, and tugged his arm up into the air. Plummeting toward the ground felt like flying, and by the time the coaster wrenched to a halt back at the gate, Hux’s head felt light from laughing and his knees were wobbly as Kylo helped him out of the car.

Hux slumped against his side, muscles quivering. Kylo, despite his reservations earlier, seemed exhilarated, charged with energy, and Hux wrapped an arm around his waist to keep himself steady. Rey and Finn were both laughing, arms linked, neither looking fazed by the ride.

“Well,” Hux muttered. “That was slightly more terrifying than I was expecting.”

“And it wasn’t as horrifying as I’d have thought,” Kylo grinned, pulling Hux against him. He grimaced as his legs wobbled, his equilibrium not quite back to normal levels. “On second thought…”

A wicked look flashed over Finn’s face. “Come on, Kylo. Now that you’ve survived that one, everything else in the park’s a piece of cake. Why don’t we go on the Cyclone next?”

“It’s a lot tamer,” Rey added, taking in both Kylo and Hux’s squeamish expressions. “Plus, you know… all that historic and architectural merit.”

Kylo glanced at the roller coaster on the other end of the park, the sounds of the screaming riders and rickety, wooden track loud despite the distance. His eyes darted towards Hux, who answered with a slight shake of his head.

“Yeah, maybe later,” Kylo said, sounding relieved. “Think I’ve filled my quota of thrills for the morning, at least right now.” His observant gaze took in the row of carnival games which were situated near the Cyclone, the stalls filled with bright colors and tin signs and cheap prizes reminiscent of another era. “Maybe we’ll catch up with you later? I’d love to see what they have over at the arcade.”

Hux smiled at him, relieved he’d be keeping his feet on the ground for the foreseeable future.

“Suit yourself,” Finn said, though his tone was good-natured.

“We’ll catch up with guys later,” Rey said, brandishing her cell phone. “We’ll text you.”

Hux didn’t miss the wink Rey offered Kylo over her shoulder as they walked away, hand in hand. Only months ago, being in a place like this, seeing couples so outwardly happy as Kylo’s friends, would have made Hux heartsick. All the guilt and the regret he’d tried to move past would have trickled back into the empty place in his chest, magnifying his loneliness.

A nudge from Kylo jostled Hux out of his thoughts. Hux looked at him, and Kylo lifted a hand to the tips of his fingers over Hux’s brow. It effectively eased the tension Hux hadn’t realized was gathered above the bridge of his nose.

“What are you thinking?” Kylo asked, and Hux realized he must have been making some sort of pensive face at Finn and Rey’s retreating forms.

“Nothing,” Hux deflected, smiling. When the corner of Kylo’s lips twitched down, Hux realized it would be too easy for Kylo to imagine that he still harbored jealousy and resentment toward his friends, so he opted for a version of the truth. “Just...sorry for all the time we could have been happy like that.”

Kylo’s gaze was unreadable. “Still a lot of time ahead.” He hesitated, seemingly torn between wanting to say something more or perhaps drawing Hux in closer against him. His indecision was saved by the carnival barker who cast a greedy and appraising eye at the two.

“How about a game of Pyramid Smash?” he asked as he threw a ball towards a stack of cans, promptly knocking over four of them. They fell onto the ground with a metallic clang. “Two chances to get six down, and you win a prize. One game for four credits, three for ten.” He eyed Kylo’s thick arms and held out out the small rubber ball enticingly. “Should be easy, for a big, strapping guy like you. Win something for you or your friend.”

“Maybe later,” Kylo said, pulling apart from Hux slightly but not letting go of his hand. He gazed down the line of games, past the booth for the Whac-a-Mole, the water-filled Fishing Hole, and the Bazooka Blast. “I used to play these things all the time when I was a kid,” he whispered in Hux’s ear. “Nothing much else to do during those summers at the beach at night. Well, at least until I was a bit older,” he amended with a grin. “Anything you want to try?”

Hux hummed, not sure he’d be terribly good at any of these games. “What’s a good one for someone with dextrous hands?” he asked, holding his free hand aloft and wiggling his fingers. “It’s my best asset.”

Kylo scanned the corridor; several children clutched stuffed toys that likely cost their parents a ridiculous fortune, while a teenage girl bequeathed her boyfriend an angry look as she brushed by Hux, empty-handed. The smell of fried dough and powdered sugar and the cloying scent of cotton candy wafted through the air.

“Too many throwing games. Too easy for them to weigh down the cans, or lighten the balls. God, you know what I mean,” he said, laughing as Hux arched a brow. “There’s a couple of water racer and shooting galleries we could do. See whose hands are quicker and steadier.” He lifted Hux’s left hand, turning it over in his palm, his fingers tracing over the lines he knew so well. He looked with rapt attention, as if hypnotized by their shape, by the way in which it fit so perfectly against his own.

As if seeing it for the first time.

“Hand model hands,” he said huskily. He raised it to his mouth, the huff of his breath warm and delicious against Hux’s wrist. There was a quick brush of his lips on the top of Hux’s skin; Hux’s eyes widened—then as swiftly as it had happened, it was gone.

Somehow, just the brush of Kylo’s lips sent made Hux’s spine tingle as much as the kiss they’d shared in his apartment the day before. His eyes flicked to Kylo’s lips, but he resisted the urge to kiss him.

“Um…” he said instead. “Right. Shooting gallery should do it.” He leveled his gaze in a challenge. “Sure I’ll win, though.”

“Sure about that?” Kylo teased. The weight of his thigh against Hux’s increased slightly as he leaned forward. “Care to make a friendly wager?” he asked, his eyes alight with challenge.

Hux’s lips parted and he inhaled, trying to filter through the various suggestions that immediately came to mind, searching for something at least mildly appropriate. “Winner picks the next ride?” He immediately had to bite the inside of his lip to keep from laughing.

A lock of hair fell across Kylo’s face. “You’re on,” he breathed, his eyes darkening. He pulled Hux in the direction of a stall that was surrounded by a moderately large crowd. The backdrop was painted black, while the tabletop was modeled after some kind of lunar-looking surface. A variety of aliens and  tentacled creatures randomly appeared, their existence obliterated by the digitized sounds of laser-beamed blasters  _pew pew-_ ing all around them.

They stared at the array of prizes which dangled from a metallic rack on the side—polyfill keychains and unicorns, Winnie-the-Pooh knockoffs, and gigantic, day-glo colored donuts and fruit.

The vendor looked at them with a bored look on her face. “Five credits per person, per game,” she said, snapping her gum obnoxiously as she pointed to the sign behind her. “Small prize if you win with up to four players; medium, five to seven; large for eight.”

“What do you need to get one of those? There’s only eight slots available for each game,” Kylo asked, gesturing to the jumbo plushies which hung from the top of the booth.

“Oh, yeah. Those.” She looked at him from behind her kohl-rimmed lids. “A star destroyer comes out for five seconds during each game. If you manage to shoot that, you win the game and your choice of any prize.”

Cash was exchanged for space on two stools side by side; Hux settled onto his and plucked a plastic and metal model of a gun that looked as though it belonged in a science fiction movie. He held it aloft to Kylo, though it remained connected to the table with a cord.

“I don’t think it would be very practical to paint your blaster purple,” Hux remarked. “The additional manufacturing cost would be superfluous.” When Kylo blinked at him, the beginning of a smile on his lips as though wondering if Hux were actually serious, Hux added: “And nobody would take you seriously.”

Kylo looked at the toy firearm in his hand. It had been worn from years of handling, some of the paint chipped off to show the red underneath. He brought it up to his eye level, as if checking for the accuracy of its sight, before catching Hux’s curious glance.

“It’s fine,” he said, a secretive smile on his face. “And I would. Take you seriously, that is. Whether you’re carrying a purple blaster or one in every color of the rainbow.”

Hux snorted, about to comment on how ridiculous that would look when an obnoxious bell like a fire alarm nearly startled him off his seat. Before them, the game shuddered to life amid a cacophony of blaring carnival music and a mechanical drone.

He had to readjust his posture and then mentally scramble to discern exactly what he was supposed to do—even as a child he’d never done anything like this, something purely fun for fun’s sake—and he had to glance at Kylo to get the idea. Peering down the worn excuse for a sight on the top of the gun, Hux took a shot at what appeared to be a space octopus. Three shots later, his target finally lit up with a victorious buzz and the counter over Hux’s stool ticked to 01. He glanced at Kylo’s score and found that he’d thus far offed five of the marauding creatures, and Hux forced himself to focus then, his competitive streak demanding he make a good showing.

“Pretty sure if this were a real conflict I would be dead,” Hux laughed after completely missing a spaceship shaped like a letter 'H.' It was all narrow lines and angles. Impossible to hit.

Kylo’s expression was surprisingly serious as he followed the spaceship with his gun, then cleanly picked it off. It disappeared from their view, the speakers blaring with the sounds of and explosion and detonating metal that was surprisingly vivid for a family-friendly venue. “Pretty sure if this were a real conflict, those things wouldn’t fly,” Kylo laughed. He maintained his focus as he sought out an insect-like creature on the other end of the booth, which flopped over belly up when he hit it dead-center, increasing his score to seven.

“This isn’t a fair fight,” Hux said, taking aim at a strange, brown and white bird-like creature that didn’t really seem to belong in this game. This one, he hit dead center. “Got one.”

“You chose,” Kylo reminded him. “Plus, I’m going to make sure that I collect on our wager.” There was a faint buzz that rippled throughout the crowd; a sleek spaceship, unlike any of the others which had appeared before, darted into the field. Its manifestation brought on an onslaught of gunfire as every single participant swung their weapons towards the elusive star destroyer, the thin outline of which was nearly impossible to hit.

“Shit!” The man sitting to Kylo’s left swore as he missed wide, earning him a punch on the arm from his disappointed companion.

Kylo chuckled, keeping his gun trained on the ship as it moved quickly throughout the field. The clock ticked down, and at the last possible second, he squeezed the trigger; his shot hit the target cleanly along the wing, which caused the sirens to blare and the lights to flash on.

Just like that, the game was over, and Hux deflated with a moment of disappointment when he glanced up and saw his score was a mere eight points. Then he glanced over to see that Kylo had sixteen, a ring of multicolored lights chasing one another around the outside of the counter; another version of Hux hated to lose at anything, regardless of the nature of the competition, but Hux only found himself feeling smug. He slid off the stool, letting the gun clatter back to its resting place, and shifted to Kylo’s side.

“Well, if you ever get tired of the art world there’s perhaps a future for you in extraterrestrial warfare.” Impulsively, he leaned down and kissed the top of Kylo’s head, his hair sun-warmed and soft and smelling of sandalwood. Hux had always loved it, and only caught himself in the familiar action when it was too late to pull away.

The levity of the moment and the rush of victory must have affected Kylo as well. He tipped his head upward as a huge smile lit up his face. “Only if you’re by my side to patch me up,” he teased. His lips searched for Hux’s, teasing the corner of Hux’s slightly parted mouth, which slowly yielded under the pressure.

“Dude, you won.” They pulled away reluctantly as the attendant stood in front of Kylo, her jaded expression altered by her surprise. “Like, no one hits that destroyer, at least not with… " She stopped suddenly, aware of having said too much. “Anyway, congrats. You can pick anything in here that you’d like as your prize.”

Kylo looked at Hux intently. “I think I’ve an idea of what I want. See anything here that you’d like, Hux?”

Hux glanced about, chewing the inside of his cheek like this was a monumental decision. Finally, his eye was drawn to something that tugged a painful memory out of his chest that was also bittersweet.

He pointed to a stuffed rainbow, two clouds bracketing the multi-colored bow. “That one,” he announced, thinking of the coffee mug that he’d shattered against the brick wall the last night they’d lived together. Maybe the universe was offering him a piece of that time back.

The girl arched her brow, as if trying to reconcile the choice of a shoddily-stitched rainbow on a fluffy, pink backdrop with Hux’s sophisticated drawl and sharp edge. But Kylo looked upon Hux’s proclamation as if it were the most logical choice in the world—and perhaps the most meaningful one, if the sudden heat which flared in his eyes was anything to go by. She grabbed a long-handled pole which leaned against the back of the stall, swinging it up until the hook caught against the small loop which held the rainbow close to the metal rack. She gave it an expert tug, then brought it down, giving it a once-over before handing it to Hux.

“Here you go. Don’t forget, only one jumbo prize, per customer, per day. Enjoy,” she said with a hint of a smirk.

Hux clutched it to his chest, feeling ridiculous and pleased at the same time. “Thanks,” he muttered, then cast Kylo a glance. He offered him a more genuine smile which felt almost shy on his lips. “Thank you,” he added, just for him. He took a chance and swayed forward, knowing himself to be too bold, and not caring as he angled his chin to offer Kylo his lips.

There was a brief moment where he felt nothing, his heart racing as he was left with just the warm breeze from the ocean teasing his skin. Then a familiar hand wrapped itself around the back of his neck, gently bringing him forward as Kylo’s soft mouth slanted deliciously over his own, his breath hotter, more humid than the surrounding air.

 _I missed you._ Kylo may not have whispered the words, but their meaning was evident in his kiss. Kylo let out a sigh, his large body sinking pliantly and perfectly against Hux’s, the button of his jeans pressing alongside the flare of Hux’s hip as he brought his head down, breathing in and nuzzling the crook of Hux’s neck.

One of Hux’s hands peeled away from the stuffed rainbow and wrapped around Kylo, palm on the warm skin of his neck, holding them together. His heart was fluttering against his rib cage, wanting to pound its way out of his chest, trying to lull him into believing that this was something real. Something that could be.

He started to speak, to put words to any of it, when someone jostled his shoulder, upset their balance, and someone muttered  _“Sorry,"_ in a put-upon tone. Their moment was broken, and Hux eyed the teenage boy who shuffled into the seat Hux had occupied moments before, taking up the very same plastic gun with which Hux had failed to succeed.

“Guess that is our cue to fuck off,” Hux muttered, turning back to Kylo with a lifted brow.

Kylo’s expression flashed with disappointment at the intrusion before he quickly shrugged it off. He pulled out his phone, checking his texts.

“Finn and Rey want to meet us by the Wonder Wheel in an hour.” He gave a low laugh. “Either this park has more thrill rides than I realized, or this is their not-at-all-subtle way of giving us some more time together.”

“Wonder Wheel,” Hux snorted. “It’s like I’m finally getting a chance to be a normal twelve year old.” He glanced up at Kylo to make sure that Kylo saw his smile, and knew he was more pleased by this than bemused. “Speaking of being twelve, I want a funnel cake and something to drink with too much sugar in it.”

Kylo arched a brow as a smile tugged slowly on his lips, no doubt because the idea of Hux indulging in fried carbs slathered in grease and sugar while chasing it down with something even more sickeningly sweet was a far cry from the meals which they used to share together. He brushed back the strand of hair which had fallen against Hux’s cheek—too long to look neat, yet too short to be tucked properly against his ear, the color darkened from the residue of Hux’s efforts in the shooting gallery and the heat of the late May sun.

“I’ve got you,” he grinned suddenly. “Trust me?”

Hux pursed his lips. “In some things, but I’m not sure food is one of them.” He found himself leaning into Kylo, wanting to be as close as he could get, despite the sweltering afternoon. “Although I guess you don’t need a refined palate in our current environment.” He nudged Kylo softly with his elbow to emphasize the fact that he was only teasing. “Lead on.”

“Remember. You asked for ‘too much sugar.’” Kylo’s large fingers threaded into his own as they wove their way through the crowd. As they approached the food stands, the smell and sounds of frying foods filled the air, the stall fronts no longer decorated with cheap, foam-filled plushies but with gigantic jugs of condiments, their pump dispensers dripping bright yellow and red splotches onto the wooden surface underneath.

Kylo moved eagerly, reminding Hux of a puppy looking forward to sharing his new toy. They stopped in front of a concession stand which had already drawn a fair crowd. When Hux peered over the couple in front of them, he saw two large industrial machines, each one containing two circular windows which held a colored concoction that was nowhere near natural.

“Well that certainly looks high in fructose corn syrup,” Hux laughed as the line shuffled forward. He kept his fingers wrapped tightly around Kylo’s, even as they reached the machines. Kylo seemed content to mimic Hux and grab a cup one-handed, making the experience a two-person job when he angled it under one spout and telling Hux to pull the lever. It went this way, each of them concocting the others’ questionable mix of Icee flavors, until Hux was reduced to trying to slurp the excess cherry from the top of his cup while it ran down one side.

“This is a mess,” Hux said, snorting with laughter as Kylo fumbled two lids out of the dispenser. “If this gets on my jeans I’m going to be pissed. They were not cheap.”

“Perish the thought,” Kylo grinned. He managed to secure the lids without adding too much more to the mess, although the ten that he gave the harried vendor looked suspiciously sticky. He pocketed the change as they made their way towards the boardwalk. “If I do, though, you’ll have to figure out some way that I can make it up to you.”

“You mean besides buying me a new pair? These will set you back several hundred dollars, you know,” Hux teased.

“I could do that. If that’s what you wanted.” Kylo hesitated, the smile slipping from his face. At first, Hux wasn’t sure if it was a reaction to his cavalier jest, or the choice of his remuneration. But on closer glance, there was a guilt which had settled over Kylo’s eyes, a defensive set to his shoulders, an awkwardness to his gaze. It was a look that was so unlike the Kylo he had known, that a flash of realization washed over Hux, that the Kylo whom he had known would have scoffed at such a suggestion. Would never have considered paying anything close to such an exorbitant amount, no matter how much the denims would have made Hux’s ass and legs look utterly obscene.

A stricken look must have crossed his face.

“Brain freeze?” Kylo asked softly. When Hux shook his head, Kylo sighed, his body leaning forward as if to seek Hux’s comfort.

“I wish it were that easy,” Kylo said. “That it could be so simple to replace things. To make the things we’ve ruined better.” He swallowed, taking Hux’s hand in his. “I’ve never apologized for my part in what happened to us.”

Hux’s first instinct was to avoid that topic altogether—not because he didn’t relish the idea of bringing closure to the past and hopefully opening a new door, but because he was hesitant to allow Kylo to shoulder any of the blame.

“You were good to me,” Hux murmured, taking a long sip of his drink. “You deserved better than you got.”

Kylo opened his mouth as if to offer a quick denial, but seemed to think better of it, attempting a different track instead. He looked out at the crowds which had gathered on the beach, at the rows of scantily clad bodies which dotted the sand, away from waters which were still too choppy and too cold at this point in the season.

“I always loved the beach. Growing up… even now. It’s one of the things which I’ve never ceased loving from my childhood.” He exhaled slowly, bringing his hand up in that familiar gesture as he carded his fingers through his hair. “But there was a point in my life where I wanted nothing to do with my past. Where I had made a conscious effort to divorce myself from my family. My name.”

Hux regarded him silently, unsure if he should interrupt. Finally, he said, “I know what that’s like. To want to leave the past behind. And family.”

Kylo gave him a small smile. “My reasons... well, you may think them a bit more selfish than yours. I grew up in what most would consider a loving household. My parents gave me things most children would want, a life of experience and travel. We had money; a name. A name that got me places… got me a lot of things.

“When I went to NYU, I wasn’t even living in the dorms. I was living in an apartment that belonged to my fucking grandfather. Which sounds great, but it was like everything in my life at that point wasn’t my own. I didn’t want to be some art historian or curator, I wanted to paint. I didn’t want to live in my family’s place, I wanted to be part of the student scene. I didn’t want to keep wondering if the things that happened to me—if the things I’d achieved—were due in part to my family’s connections. Whether my successes, or failures, were based on my own merits, or theirs.”

Hux thought he was beginning to understand where Kylo was going with this. “So...succeeding in your career wasn’t...isn’t...just about money or fame.” He paused, worrying that hadn’t come out right, then hurried on. “I mean, I knew that, but I guess. You never really said why.” He took a breath and almost kept talking, wanted to assure Kylo that he didn’t  _have_ to explain himself, but he faltered, not sure if  _not explaining themselves_ had worked for them in the past. So he held his tongue.

“Yeah…” he gave Hux a wry grin. “I took on a  _nom de guerre._ Dropped out of college. I know my friends call me a free spirit, but part of that was probably not wanting to be beholden to anyone but myself. Well, that, and the fact that I hadn’t found the right person yet.

“You changed that. You were the first person that I ever wanted to inhabit my space, whom I could see settling down with. Settling down  _for_. But a couple months after we started seeing each other, my career started taking off. It seemed like everything I had hoped for was in my grasp. But I was told how hard it was—that I needed these connections, that I needed to schmooze… well, you know the rest. You were there.”

“Kind of,” Hux said, shrugging one shoulder. “I didn’t do a great job of fitting into your world. Too worried about my own, I guess.” He scuffed his shoe on the ground, glanced sheepishly over at Kylo. “I just wanted you all to myself.”

“I wish I had been there for you,” Kylo whispered. “Not just in the ways which I  _thought_ I was. I wish I had known better of how hard you had to try to  _make_ things fit. I wish that my shit didn’t create such conflict with your own. And more than anything, I wish you’d never thought that what happened between us was just your fault.” He blinked furiously, which probably was only in some small way a result of the sun which fell across his eyes. “I wish you’d know how sorry I am, and how much I missed you, and how much I want to give us… this… another try.”

Hux’s stomach flipped, Kylo’s heartfelt apology trying to take an immediate back seat to the admission that he wanted to try again to make them work. He forced himself not to pounce on that hope immediately, however. “I don’t think we have to even assign blame, at this point,” he said, rubbing his thumb across Kylo’s knuckles. “Maybe just...forgive each other.”

Kylo moved closer. Hux could feel the heat from his body, the sorrow and need radiating off of him, intensified by the throngs of people surrounding them and the sun. The paper cup filled with fluorescent slush slipped slightly in his hands, the condensation mixing with the sweat which was gathering along his palms. Even though they had kissed earlier, it felt as if they were crossing over another line. Taking another leap, although this time, with their eyes wide open.

He took another sip of his drink to hide his uncertainty, the dryness in his throat somehow increasing as Kylo studied the way his lips had wrapped around the straw.

“I’d like that,” Kylo said huskily as his eyes flicked down the line of Hux’s throat. “Forgive each other. And ourselves.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost there! Chapters 7 and 8 (Epilogue) will post in one go. Thanks so much for staying with this story, and all your comments and support. It means so much to all of us! <33


	7. Something Bright and New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been two years, two months, and twenty eight days since they first met. Hux and Kylo won't leave the past behind, but are ready to take what they've learned, and make something new from it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artwork by the incredible [noxogoth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NOXOGOTH/pseuds/NOXOGOTH)

Hux’s therapist had a policy, and one of the first things she’d explained to Hux at the advent of their relationship had been that she enforced it diligently. One cancellation, preceded by a notice or not, was brushed aside with only a check-in. The second time that happened would merit a longer conversation about the serious nature of the therapeutic process and the level of commitment necessary to bring about real change. A third cancellation meant that it was time to part ways.

Hux had gotten to that point, just after he and Kylo had broken up—he’d stopped going for over a month, cancelled two of their standing appointments, and wallowed in misery instead. He hadn’t returned Colleen’s phone calls, despite the messages of genuine concern she’d left on his voicemail.

Then one bleak day, he’d come home late from a particularly gruesome shift, dead on his feet, and checked his mail on the way up to his apartment. In the box, he’d found a card. It was sealed in a cheerful, orange-red envelope and addressed with a bold hand—large letters with loops and frills that made Hux curl his lip in disdain. The return label was ambiguous—a glossy sticker with a set of initials and a borough, but no other details.

He’d carried it up the stairs and tossed it onto the counter along with the bills and adverts that had accumulated in the box over the last month. He rarely checked it, because he paid his accounts online and nothing personal ever came for him.

The envelope had lain there until the next evening. Hux had been off work that day, his first day off in five weeks, and was two glasses into his second bottle of wine and feeling miserable, like everything was in grayscale and nothing mattered. It was a way of life now that Kylo was no longer a part of it. The wine was supposed to help him forget, to blur the edges, but all it ever did was make the ache he was drowning in feel deeper.

He’d been thinking about that last day, and about how their painting had looked hanging crooked on the wall of Kylo’s apartment, when he finally picked up the envelope. Later, Hux would think that his hand had strayed to it because the color reminded him of the sunset they’d painted together, and he’d been lost in that memory.

He’d peeled it open with a thumbnail and slid the card out, turning it over in his hand to regard the image on the front. It was a light blue, the shade of an early morning summer sky, watercolor green trees with a pale yellow sun hanging above them. There were no words on the front, but when Hux had opened it, there were three on the inside, handwritten:

_Don’t give up._

In place of a signature, there was a business card. It was one that Hux had in his wallet already, but hadn’t looked at in a long time. It was Colleen’s, and on the back she’d written: “Thinking of you.”

It had been like a lifeline, arriving just at the moment when giving up seemed like the intelligent thing to do, when it felt like no one in the entire universe was thinking of him in that moment and wouldn’t be, because he’d made his life a barren landscape devoid of potential pain but empty of joy.

He had called her that night, well past business hours, but she’d picked up her phone. He’d made an appointment for the next day, and he’d gone to it.

He never missed another one.

“How long has it been, now?” Colleen asked, chewing on the end of her ink pen. It only partially hid her smile. She knew how long it had been since Hux had last had a drink, but she wanted him to say it.

Hux was perched on the couch in her office, one leg crossed over the other. “One year, three months, and twenty-two days,” he said, then looked at his watch. “And twelve hours.”

“When’s the last time you wanted to?”

Hux pondered that. There was a time when he would have said “I want one right now,” but since he’d reconnected with Kylo, that hadn’t been true. That compulsion had been erased by the desire not to mute a single moment that Kylo was in his life.

“Just under two months,” Hux told Colleen.

“And what if things don’t work out with Kylo?” she asked, cutting right to the point.

Hux knew he’d allowed himself to become too entwined with that idea already; hope was a dangerous thing, and when it went, it was hard not to circle the drain with it.

“I’ll still have the reasons I quit to begin with,” he said. “I’ll still be the person I wanted to be.” He paused, chewing his thumbnail briefly. “Or at least, still be a work in progress that I’m happy with.”

Colleen smiled. “You should be. You’ve worked hard.” She closed the notebook on her lap and glanced at the clock on her side table. “Have a hot date tonight?” she asked, looking at him again.

Hux uncrossed his legs and sat forward, knowing their time was up for the day. “I hope so,” he said. “He’s supposed to call me later.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

The old Hux would have been consumed with anxiety and catastrophic thoughts, self-doubt and suspicion, and would have crawled to the bottom of a bottle trying to work through it.

“I’ll try not to make assumptions,” he told her. “Work on my novel, maybe. Cook that recipe you showed me last week. Take a long walk.” He smirked. “Spend time with my cat, because I’m _that_ person now.”

This made Colleen laugh, her eyes crinkling as she stood up. “That’s not a bad person to be, Armitage,” she said.

Hux stood as well, crossing to the door, and Colleen opened it for him.

“See you next week,” he told her.

“Stay out of trouble,” she called after as Hux passed through, and he emerged from her office into the mid-summer afternoon with a smile and a feeling in his chest that could only be described as lightness.

**.~O~.**

The sun spilled bright, warm and forgiving. Hux made his way past several young families striving for urban casual chic as they pushed their Bugaboo strollers, carrying shopping bags imprinted with fancy names and sipping twelve-dollar lattes in plastic cups. A colorful window display caught his eye. There was an array of paper goods including a notebook with pearlized sheets, its binding obviously handmade. He was always on the lookout for new sources of inspiration, but then he quickly realized that the store would still be there in a week’s time if he were lucky enough to be walking this way again, and that a different source of inspiration lay ahead.

The inner door to Kylo’s building was locked. Hux scanned the buzzers, his brow furrowing when he saw that the label for “Kanata” in 4B was now missing.

He rang the bell to Kylo’s apartment. Somewhere overhead, Janelle Monae sang and the bass beat pulsed, cutting through the afternoon air. He straightened, fighting the urge to place his hand in his pocket and withdraw the key that he knew was no longer there.

“Hey.” Kylo’s voice crackled through the speaker. It was sexy and slow, and strangely muffled, as if something were caught between his teeth.

“Hi. It’s me.” And then, because he couldn’t help himself, “What are you eating?”

There was a clatter on the other end, followed by the speaker shutting off, then on again. “Nothing,” Kylo laughed. “Well, the end of a paintbrush, maybe. I’m in the middle of finishing a piece. Come on up and you’ll see.”

“I thought...I thought we had plans.” Hux hesitated. Maybe he could return to the paperie down the block. “I can come back later, if you’re busy.”

“Hux.” Even through the metal box and the static, Hux could hear that Kylo’s voice was warm and soft. “Come on up. I’ll explain when you get here.” The connection went dead as the door buzzed open.

He tried to tamp down the flutter of anticipation as he made his way to the elevator, the memories of grumpy Christmas elves and clandestine blow jobs making him huff back his laughter. The metal doors slid open, and the hallway—still quiet, still utilitarian—looked exactly as it had, leading up to Kylo’s door.

It swung open before he had a chance to knock. Kylo’s large frame filled the entrance, the dimness of the corridor unable to hide the wide grin which broke across his face.

“Come in.” His thick fingers wrapped around the side of the door as he waved Hux in, a wet streak of orange slashed across his knuckles.

Hux smiled at the paint staining Kylo’s hand. It was familiar—had always been like a second skin, and Hux couldn’t remember ever seeing him without paint _somewhere_. Under his nails, in his hair, behind his ears.

Hux crossed the threshold and then hovered there while Kylo closed the door behind him. Not much had changed since the last time Hux had been here. There was a lamp Hux didn’t recognize beside the couch; paintings on the wall that were new to him; a rush woven rug at his feet that hadn’t been there before.

He could sense the blank, white space on the wall to his right where he’d thrown the glass that knocked their sunset painting off the wall, but Hux resolutely refused to turn his head to look.

“You’ve been busy,” Hux said, waving a hand toward the new art on the wall behind the TV.

A faint blush colored the strong bones of Kylo’s cheeks. “Yeah. I know that the last collection was well-received, and for the longest time, I was trying to figure out how I could possibly come up with something better.” He pointed to a pile of canvases leaning against the wall. Many were in an unfinished state; some even appeared as if Kylo had restarted them, several times over.

Hux walked over, sifting through several of the works. He still didn’t know much about art, at least in terms of gallery-speak and painterly prose. Most of the canvases still retained the intensity of color that Kylo seemed to be known for, but the expression appeared more restrained, at least to Hux’s untrained eye.

He came across one that had a large swath of black stretched across a background of reds and white, along with several paint splatters.

“Channeling your inner Pollock?” Hux asked, arching his brow.

Kylo let out a soft laugh. “At least I would’ve been channeling something. Part of the reason why my last series did so well was because I was so angry. My art was my emotional outlet for many months. It let me work through the anger and betrayal I felt at the way our relationship had ended.”  He must have seen Hux wince, because he put his hands up hastily. “I know it wasn’t one-sided. _Fractured_ was a piece about me, just as much as it was about you. About _us_. Once that bitterness and sadness left, I wasn’t feeling my stuff as much as I was thinking about it. Some artists thrive on the clever and esoteric; my works were always more visceral.”

Hux replaced the canvas. “Bully for you,” he said, straightening. “For being able to see the silver lining in everything. At least our breakup was good for something.” There was no disguising the bitterness in his voice. He turned and looked towards the massive windows, at the late afternoon sun that was flooding the room, and blinked.

Kylo’s hand appeared on his shoulder a second later. Hux found himself leaning into the touch, the feel of it warm and reassuring.

“It was good for a lot of things,” Kylo said softly. “If it hadn’t happened then, it would have eventually. And honestly, if we had continued down the same path, it probably would have grown even uglier. I’m not sure we would’ve gotten a second chance.”

Hux looked up. There was no judgment in Kylo’s eyes. In fact, he looked almost hopeful. “Deep down, I knew I was shit at coping. Sometimes, destroying the things that made me happy seemed like the only thing I was good at. Losing you—breaking us apart—was one wake-up call too many.” He reached up and grasped Kylo’s hand, giving it a squeeze. Kylo’s fingers were as warm and strong as ever, slotting perfectly against his own. “I don’t want to marginalize my recovery. It’s still damned hard. Some days more than others.”

“It’s hard because you care. You’re better, now.” Kylo lifted Hux’s hand and pressed it to his lips. “So am I. We’re both works in progress. But I like the thought that we’re finally at a place where we can work on being better together.” He smiled and led Hux to another wall. A large painting rested on the floor, and on an easel, there stood a blank canvas.

Kylo pointed to the painting. “It’s not done yet, but what do you see?”

The room tilted slightly as Hux was hit with a sense of déjà vu. “What?”

He felt the warmth of Kylo’s body, the solidity and reassuring presence of it as Kylo came up behind him. “When you look at it, does it remind you of anything familiar?”

Hux tried to ignore the heat of Kylo’s breath, the way that it curled around his neck, and how his body wanted to lean into it. “Um...” he said, trying to focus. A patch of grey was visible in the background while a cacophony of color created tension throughout the greater portion of the canvas, slowly fading into a wash of yellow and blue.

Something caught the corner of his eye. He stepped back, squinted, and looked at it again. There was a small section where the colors aligned to form the subtle but distinct shape of a rainbow.

“It’s Coney Island,” he choked out. He could see it now—the sinuous shape of the Thunderbolt, the iconic shape of the Wonder Wheel, the noise of the boardwalk. He stared at the canvas, remembering that afternoon, and let all the visceral sensations he’d stored of that day rise to the surface. There was the feel of Kylo’s hand linked with his; the stomach-plummeting rush of the roller coaster; the fresh sea breeze on his face and the warm sun overhead; the sound of carefree laughter; and the overwhelming relief when they’d agreed to let the past go.

Hux ran his index finger lightly over continuous loop of the Wonder Wheel. “I remember feeling like someone had pushed the rewind button on my life that day. I felt young again, like maybe I could start over.” He didn’t want to turn his head to look at Kylo, because he was sure the look on his face would match the raw hope in his chest, the same in this moment as it had been on that day.

Kylo’s hand—its palm rough from clasping a brush, the muscles strong from the years of hauling his supplies—was gentle as it slid around Hux’s waist and turned him around.

 _"With each sunrise, we are given a chance at a new beginning._ Don’t blame that one on me,” he laughed softly as Hux shot him a pained expression, “I read it on a cheesy greeting card.” The levity fell from his face as he thumbed Hux’s cheek then leaned in, his lips brushing the corner of Hux’s mouth in a kiss.

Hux had meant to say something about the motivational slogan business they’d once discussed as a possible career alternative, but the tender touch of Kylo’s lips turned his thoughts to static. They’d kissed often enough recently, but without fail it made Hux’s stomach flutter. Kylo’s soft skin under his palm had the same effect, invariably reminding him of the way it had felt to have nothing between them. This sort of ever-present spark had, in the interest of ‘taking things slow,’ led to a growing number of cold showers.

He allowed himself only to slide his hand over Kylo’s shoulder in order to thread his fingers into the dark hair at Kylo’s nape, turning his own head enough to meet Kylo’s lips fully. Hux couldn’t remember if they’d ever shared a chaste kiss, even on the night that they’d met and been strangers, and this kiss was no exception. The moment their lips touched, Kylo’s tongue opened Hux’s mouth, and a low moan shuddered through Hux as he took him in.

Kylo tasted of coffee—the same familiar, nutty, faintly-sweet, bodega-bought, no-name brand that he’d always favored because he said it was the best. It reminded Hux of those rare weekends when Hux didn’t have to work, and Kylo would make a pot of coffee and read the news on his tablet until Hux was ready to wake up.

“Hux,” Kylo whispered, pulling back reluctantly. The evidence of his arousal lay along Hux’s hip, and Hux couldn’t help but to feel a slight thrill when he thrust forward and Kylo let out a groan. “God, you’re making this so hard.”

“Pun intended?” Hux asked wryly.

“Absolutely.” Kylo’s lips were wet, his eyes sparkling with mischief. He lowered his hand, clasping Hux’s as he led him to his easel. “I met with Sabine when I was trying to break through my creative block. She had a lot of suggestions, many of which I found helpful: getting out of my normal work space; pushing my boundaries and going against what's familiar; starting over.” He hesitated. “But there’s one that I haven’t tried yet, and I was kind of hoping we could do that one together.”

Hux wasn’t an artist, but he realized that he trusted Kylo. “Okay. What is it?” he asked, bemused.

“Sabine told me to embrace my fear. That I should go towards what scared me the most.”

“I’m not sure I understand."

“I think, in a certain way, that I was a lot like you. I’ve had a lot of relationships, but they were always short-lived, at least until I met you. Free love, and all that,” Kylo said drily. “You were the first person I’d ever lived with. That I ever imagined there could be something more with. Unfortunately, I didn’t do the best job of showing you all that.”

Hux wanted to protest, to point out that Hux himself had not done any better in showing Kylo how he’d really felt, but that seemed like going backward, when they’d promised each other they would move on to something new and let the past go. Whatever this was that Kylo was asking, he must need in order to do exactly that.

“What are you afraid of?” Hux couldn’t help asking, searching Kylo’s face.

Kylo dropped his hand. “You know that I strayed from the path my parents wanted me to follow when I dropped out of school. I wanted to follow _my_ calling; to do what I wanted, based on my own merit.” He smiled; unlike his usual one, this was more reserved and cautious. “I also was blessed with being twenty, of having that feeling of invincibility, and knowing that my parents would be there for me if I failed. I’m not sure I’d be that brave again, if faced with making the same decisions now.”

“But you made the right choice. You’re doing what you love, and you’re successful.” Hux gave him a nudge. “Not many people can say they’ve made it onto the pages of _Time Out.”_

“The thing is—if I fail as an artist, I could accept that. Chalk it up to a cutthroat industry, or the whims of the buying public. Luck. But putting myself out there, to give my love to someone, and not get it back…”

Hux frowned, his stomach sinking. “Do you believe that I never really loved you?”

“No, I—” Kylo hitched his thumbs into the front pocket of his jeans, rocking on his heels as he let out a breath. “Fuck; I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant at all. I guess what I’m trying to say is that loving someone with all you have is a scary fucking thing. Because you have to lay yourself out there, all of you. And if that fails...” He sighed, unhooking his thumbs and spreading his hands. “I held a piece of me back from you. Because if we failed, I didn’t want it to be an indictment of me. But these last two months have shown me that I want _us,_ and how lucky I am to get a second chance with you.” He looked into Hux’s eyes, his expression earnest and pleading. “I want to do what Sabine suggested—to go towards that which scared me the most. Because the idea of being with you is so, so worth it.”

Hux’s stomach tightened, chest fluttering as Kylo’s amber eyes held his with the same kind of earnest kind of hope that Hux felt every time he thought of Kylo. He’d thought he would need a lifetime to earn a chance like this—not just to start over, but for Kylo to ever trust him with something fragile again. He felt tongue-tied, knowing he should say something profound and meaningful and from the heart, but all he wanted was to tell Kylo that Hux was his. Had been, since they’d met.

But the fear—that was something Hux understood. It was a tremulous undercurrrent that haunted his own daydreams of what the future might hold, and how he might not ever be the person Kylo needed, no matter how much he wanted to be.

“How does it work?” Hux asked softly. “Going towards the thing you fear? Is it just a cliff you jump off of, hoping for a soft fall?” He hesitated, then thought that perhaps it was a give and take, and that he needed to be willing to show the same vulnerability that Kylo was offering him. “I’m scared too,” he admitted. “I was before. But instead of holding something back, I showed you everything all at once, knowing that I would run you off before you could hurt me. Except it didn’t work like that, because you didn’t just give up on me like everyone else always had.”

Kylo looked thoughtful, then let out a laugh. It was quiet, and the slightest bit self-mocking. “It’s ironic; we both wanted the same thing...even thought of getting to the same place, but approached it from two totally different directions. What if this time, we jumped together? Braved the fall?” He slid his hand into Hux’s, lacing their fingers together.

Hux glanced up. His response was cut off as the heel of his shoe caught on the edge of the gigantic drop cloth that was puddled along the floor. “Well, it looks like you’d have plenty of things to catch us if we did,” he teased. He looked down at the splotches of paint, the vivid colors from the Coney Island painting that Kylo had shown him as well as the reds and blacks of the abandoned works. “You know, I’m sure you can buy a clean one of these for like twenty bucks. We could pick one up on the way back from dinner.”

Kylo hummed, pulling Hux back towards him and letting go of his hand long enough to slip his arms around Hux’s waist.

“About that,” he began, and Hux recognized the mischievous tone that had always accompanied something spontaneous. “I was thinking that maybe we could stay in. Watch a movie, or something.”

Hux wet his lips with the tip of his tongue, drawing out the intentional pause so as not to look over-eager. The idea of spending a quiet night alone with Kylo was infinitely more appealing than sharing him with the city, but going out tonight—even the choice of restaurant—had been Kylo’s idea.

“I’m happy to go to out like we planned,” Hux told him. “Or happy to stay here. Whatever you want.”

Kylo hesitated, like he was deciding whether to take Hux’s response at face value, but then he smiled and gave Hux’s cheekbone a quick peck.

“Let’s stay here, then,” he said. “I actually have something I want to do with you. Well, several somethings,” he added with a lopsided grin. “But this thing first.”

He gave Hux’s hand one last squeeze before walking over to his easel, removing the canvas, and placing it in the middle of the floor.

“What are you doing?” Hux asked, laughing.

“We’re doing this together,” Kylo grinned. He removed a paintbrush from the back pocket of his jeans and pointed to the blank space that Hux knew in his gut still existed. “I’m ready to fill the part that’s been missing. If you’re willing.”

The sheepish, hopeful smile Kylo gave him would have made Hux agree to anything, honestly. Hux pursed his lips and raised an eyebrow, determined to go with the proverbial flow. “You do realize that I haven’t gotten any better at painting since the last time you conned me into it,” he said, unable to help smiling at Kylo’s boyish enthusiasm as much as the way the blank canvas felt like a key that could open a door that had been closed to him for too long. “Where should I look for a paintbrush? The bathroom cabinet? The refrigerator?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Kylo said, a devilish glint in his eye. “I may have a couple close by.” He angled his body, drawing Hux’s attention to a second brush that peeked out from his jeans, the outline of the handle visible against the curve of his ass, and then placed the one in his hand firmly between his teeth.

Hux bit his bottom lip, taking advantage of the opportunity to look Kylo over. Tilting his head, Hux pretended to take his time considering his options before circling Kylo, meeting his eyes as he thumbed the bristles of the brush in Kylo’s mouth. Hux leaned in and kissed Kylo’s chin, then the underside of his bottom lip, then reached around him to the side where he knew the other paintbrush was _not_ on.

He slid his fingers into the empty pocket, letting them mold to the curve of Kylo’s ass. “Wrong one,” he murmured, smiling, “Sorry.”

Kylo huffed, silent laughter moving his chest as he tried not to drop the paintbrush in his mouth. “Try again,” he said around it, eyes sparkling.

Hux kept his hand in Kylo’s pocket and slid his other arm around, fingers closing on the handle of the brush and leaving it there as he looked thoughtfully into Kylo’s eyes.

“Hmm,” Hux hummed, fighting to keep a straight face at his own sense of humor. “I’m not quite sure which to choose...your mouth, or your ass.”

Kylo tried to verbalize his response as his ears flushed pink, then angled his head so that the brush dropped onto the floor. “The next time you want to leave me hanging with something in my mouth, I can think of several other objects that might be more appealing,” he said gruffly.

“Oh really?” Hux murmured, leaning in to capture Kylo’s lips in another kiss. Those lips were slick with saliva from holding on to the paintbrush and so soft, and Hux wanted to do nothing else for the rest of the night but kiss him. Yet he’d understood Kylo’s longing to share his passion for art with him, and it was something tangled up in Kylo’s character that would always be a part of him. Hux wanted to love all of it, with the same enthusiasm that Kylo felt.

With some effort, Hux pulled away from kiss, smiling when Kylo chased his lips. After he snagged the paintbrush out of Kylo’s back pocket, he brandished it aloft. “Teach me, master,” he said.

Kylo smiled broadly and stooped to take out a flat board, rummaging through the tray of acrylic paints. At first, he seemed to hesitate, considering each color thoughtfully, but then, as if a switch was thrown, began putting aside several tubes almost haphazardly, He squeezed the pigments onto the board, and Hux was surprised at the colors. There were the familiar oranges and yellows, but also the reds and blacks and blues of his last series of works, their intensity almost overwhelming the small surface.

Kylo handed him another board, then picked up a massively wide brush from his collection that looked to be three times the width of the ones a house painter would use.

Hux raised his brows. “You know, there’s such a thing a overcompensating. And if memory serves, you hardly need to.”

Kylo grinned. “I may have some things to make up for, but that’s definitely not one of them.” He gestured to the paints. “Go ahead. Pick out what you need to. Paints and brushes included.”

Hux hesitated. “What are we painting? Are there certain colors you want us to use?”

Kylo leaned forward, his mouth brushing Hux’s for the briefest instant. “Don’t think. Just do.”

Hux perused the collection in the tray, finding himself glancing at Kylo’s selections and trying to surmise what sort of painting he intended to create, thinking that he should tailor his choices to Kylo’s. He picked up a tube of cerulean blue, chewing on his bottom lip, then set it aside to keep. He picked up a large tube of black, half-empty with the end rolled up, but then tossed that back in the box.

He found himself unable to peel his thoughts away from their sunset painting, but he couldn’t quite settle on the vibrant shades that it had been; he felt like whatever that painting had represented had changed. The reds had become washed out, pale. He selected a medium-red color and set it aside with a big bottle of titanium white. Then he added a wan, yellowish color and an ochre; a brown that he could mix with the white; and several shades of blue. By the time he’d piled up his colors, he realized there was a silence stretching between them, and looked up to find Kylo watching him.

“Is that...okay?” he asked, gesturing at the assortment with one hand. “I mean...it’s just random, I guess.” He felt like a fish out of water. This had always been Kylo’s realm—one that Hux had always felt like a tourist in.

“More than. There’s no right or wrong here. The great thing is, if it doesn’t feel right, you can paint over it. You can mix your colors. You can move on to a different section. You’ll know whether it’s what you want as you go along.” Kylo motioned to his own board. “Why do you think I need so many choices myself?”

He left Hux contemplating his selection as he squatted on one side of the canvas, dipping the huge brush through the blue and black and wiping the excess on the board’s edge. There was a familiar _swooshing_ noise as the brush’s bristles danced over the canvas’ fibers, the paint criss-crossing over a large section of the surface in a statement as bold as Kylo himself.

Hux wrinkled his nose, brushing a hand over the soft fabric of his brand new, designer jeans. He rarely wore them, but Kylo had always loved it when he did—he’d commented on it at Coney Island, which had made Hux determined to fill his closet with any brand he saw that made his ass look great.

“You realize,” he told Kylo, “that these very flattering blue jeans are going to end up looking like they were produced in the 1980s at this rate. If I’d known this was the plan, I could have worn yoga pants.” He smiled and looked at Kylo out of the corner of his eyes.

His efforts were rewarded as Kylo’s gaze slid down his backside, lingering much too long for it to be anything casual. Whether it was the memory of the yoga pants, or the way the worn denim hugged the curve of his bum, it had the effect of distracting Kylo from their purported task.

Hux cleared his throat. “Unless you really are going for that drippy, Pollock thing, you’d better watch where you’re pointing that brush,” he warned.

Kylo looked down at the canvas as a large drop of cerulean blue fell from the tip of his wide brush and splattered over the corner of the canvas. It spread, wide and big over the previously painted streaks, marring their progress, and reminded Hux uncomfortably of a water stain. Kylo hunched down further, his lower lip caught between his teeth as he frowned. He studied the piece for a moment, then removed a second brush from his back pocket and swept over the drip with its fan-like edge.

“Nothing that can’t be fixed,” he declared as he sat back on his haunches, a satisfied smile on his face. His gaze flew back at Hux. For a moment, it looked as if he were going to say something more, but then he returned back to the canvas and resumed painting.

Hux knelt beside him, swiping his own brush through a slightly darker blue and dragging it along the underside of the streak that Kylo had thinned with the fan brush. It instantly looked too dark, too thick, so Hux drew the color out along the bottom of the canvas in a long wave until it began to fade toward the opposite side.

“Kind of looks like it wants to be water,” he said, then decided that it did. He dipped his brush in a bluish-green color and did just what Kylo had suggested—not think, and just _do_.

Time seemed to slip away after that, and at some point, Hux forgot about getting messy, impressing Kylo, or the plans they’d had earlier. He got lost in the way that creating something occupied the whole of his mind while putting other things on hold, and he realized that this feeling—like being suspended in a sea of possibilities—was the same one that he’d found while writing. It was the hobby that had taken his mind off drinking, that made him feel like something was out there in the ether waiting for him to bring to life, and that was for a purpose. Not an empty search for one.

For the first time, he truly understood Kylo’s passion for art, and why it was an inseparable part of his being.

Hux was watching Kylo now, putting what could be the finishing touches on what had become a pale blue and lavender skyline. Hux could never have blended the colors of a rising sun so perfectly—he had no idea how yellow could fit so perfectly in a sea of blue without staining everything around it green, but color was Kylo’s medium. He made it live.

It had been a nebulous thing, the way the painting had taken the shape of a sunrise. There had been a moment—a sinking, gut-wrenching moment, when Hux thought they were on a path toward recreating the same painting they’d done the first time. He’d gotten bogged down in trying to pick colors that didn’t match that memory, afraid to tell Kylo that he didn’t want to feel like they were starting back in the same place, because they couldn’t. But then Kylo had murmured something about the way the sun rose in the morning, when he’s awake early enough to see it, and how it always made him feel like he could actually feel the earth turning her face into the light. After that, Hux knew what colors he wanted, and the painting on the floor before them became something bright and new, and there were no memories trapped within it.

Kylo seemed to think so, too, because he laid a hand on Hux’s arm. Hux leaned into it gladly; he couldn’t help wincing at the stiffness in his back though, or the ways his legs ached.

“We’ve been at it a long time,” Kylo murmured, straightening and helping Hux up. “It’s always good to take a step back and see the big picture. Literally.”

The lowering sun through the large windows reinforced just how much time had passed since they’d first started. They warmed Kylo’s skin while highlighting his profile, throwing it into sharp relief against the backdrop of the city. Hux stared, and was caught as Kylo turned, his eyes widening as his lips broke out into a smile.

“You…You’ve got…”

“‘I’ve got’ what?” Hux asked as Kylo’s expression deepened, the line of his throat working as he swallowed.

“Some paint on you. Not there,” Kylo amended as Hux looked down at his hands. “Here.” He swiped his thumb along Hux’s cheek, first away, then down towards the corner of Hux’s lip. Despite their earlier kiss, this felt more intimate, with the determined pressure of Kylo’s thumb, the wet, then slightly tacky feel of the paint against his skin, and the fading glow of the sun on his cheek.

Hux smiled, the reflexive gesture making his lips curl up into the brush of Kylo’s thumb, and he tasted paint before Kylo managed to pull his hand back. Hux laughed, swiping at his lips.

“My entire, devastating outfit is ruined,” Hux said, glancing down at himself. His sleeves were rolled up, but there was a smear of red on the untucked hem. His forearms were covered in paint, and the knees of his jeans smudged. “I was really planning to seduce you tonight, you know,” he added. He reached out and tugged at Kylo’s own paint-smeared shirt. “I think you like this look, though.” He raised an eyebrow, afraid he was being too forward for where they were at in their tenuous, new relationship, but feeling buoyant.

“I do,” Kylo said, his eyes dancing mischievously. “But it could stand a small improvement.”

“Improvement?” Hux began, affronted. His next words died in his throat as Kylo leaned back slightly and gathered the paint that was still wet on the edges of his brush, slicking it between his fingers before smearing it across the front of Hux’s shirt. “Oh…” Hux breathed.

“Now we match,” Kylo said, his eyes darkening.

“I can’t very well leave here looking like one of your unfinished paintings.”

“Hmmm.” Kylo’s expression turned thoughtful for a moment. He latched onto the waistband of Hux’s jeans, and for one heart-stopping moment, Hux thought he was going to feel the length of Kylo’s hard body pressed along his, or even better, the sound of his zipper being undone, but there was the cool rush of air against his belly instead. “Maybe here, then,” Kylo determined as he tickled his paint-laden fingers along the line of Hux’s side.

Hux squawked, lurching back, even though it didn’t put him remotely out of Kylo’s long reach. He bent at the waist and quickly pressed his hand into the center of the still-wet board coated with all the shades of paint they’d started with. It was cold and squished through his fingers, and he uncoiled back to his full height.

“You ought to know by now that I always win,” Hux told Kylo, keeping his hand aloft, paint-smeared fingers curled like cat’s claws in front, ready to defend himself. “Come near me and face consequences,” he added with a smirk, his tone far more invitation than threat.

Kylo glanced at him side-eyed, the lower part of his face contorted as if he were caught between contemplation and laughter. It was only too late that Hux noticed that Kylo had inched closer with that stealthy grace that’d always surprised him due to his size. “I like the sound of that,” Kylo grinned as his arm flew up, his fingers wrapping around Hux’s wrist.

Hux hitched his breath as Kylo’s eyes flickered between determination and uncertainty. When he made no move to protest, Kylo brought their hands down, resting it on the front of his jeans.

“God, I missed you,” he murmured, his forehead coming down to rest atop Hux’s. He leaned in, his lips soft and forgiving as he rubbed their palms slowly along the length of his prick, its fattening shape nearly causing Hux to keen.

Hux gave himself to the kiss, everything dissolving into the press of their lips, the rough and growingly frantic swipe of their tongues. Everything in him ached in a way that was too slow, too soft, and too sweet, yet still felt unbelievably perfect as their quickening breaths urged them forward.

Kylo shifted, his plush mouth seeking the line of Hux’s neck, marking and nicking Hux’s pale skin. “I missed you,” he repeated as he released Hux’s hand and palmed Hux’s throbbing cock. “Let me show you how much.”

Hux’s heart skipped a beat and his stomach clenched in a knot of desire. Kylo’s breathy, low voice was one Hux remembered well, the whisper of it against his ear making his skin tingle. Hux would have been lying had he said that every time he’d seen Kylo since they reconnected—even that first time—he hadn’t wanted him. Hadn't wanted to feel Kylo’s naked body, his mouth on every inch of Hux’s skin, or the heavy weight of Kylo’s cock in his palm. But Kylo had said he’d wanted to take things slowly, so Hux had done his best to burn in silence.

It cost Hux no small amount of willpower to say, “Only if you’re ready.” His body betrayed him as he said it though, swaying in closer to Kylo’s solid form, one hand sliding down across the front of Kylo’s jeans to feel the shape of him.

“Never more so,” Kylo said.

Hux didn’t think anything could be better after Kylo’s answer, but then Kylo was sliding to the ground, the large shape of his body folding onto itself as he came to a stop before Hux, resting on his knees.

Hux bit back a whimper as the inseams of his jeans became awash with paint, their denim color slathered in yellows and reds, Kylo’s handprints leaving no mistake as to the ownership he’d already claimed on Hux’s heart. The outside light continued to fade, but even in the dimness Hux could see how Kylo’s eyes were hungry and dark.

Kylo’s hands were rubbing circles further along Hux’s thighs as they worked their way up to his crotch. Most of the paint had dried, but there were still faint traces of the pigment visible wherever Kylo’s hands were touching the fabric.

“You know,” Hux rasped as Kylo suckled the outline of his cock, the heat and moisture of his talented mouth making it hard to think. “You should be careful. I think that stuff’s not safe for consumption.” He groaned as Kylo looked up at him through the curtain of his lashes. “And I need you very much alive. At least for the next hour.”

“Only an hour? I’m wounded,” Kylo teased, his smile growing wicked. He unbuttoned Hux’s fly and lowered the zipper. “And I think I know the perfect remedy.” He glanced up at Hux as he parted the fly of Hux’s paint-covered jeans and pushed them down over his hips. “You know; create a sterile environment to work in?”

Hux barked out a laugh and planted his hand over Kylo’s face. “God, you’re awful,” he said, his voice shaky with desire and amusement. He lifted his hand, leaving behind the traces of a rainbow of paint on Kylo’s forehead and his nose, then stroked his fingers delicately along the line of Kylo’s jaw. “Your crass sense of humor is no better than the day I met you,” Hux said softly, fondly.

The levity left Hux’s face as Kylo tilted his head. He nuzzled the front of Hux’s briefs before grabbing the waistband, pulling them down so they sat level with his jeans, rucked around Hux’s lower thighs. Hux’s prick sprung out, shamelessly hard as it curved up pink and eager towards his belly.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” Kylo said, his voice cracking. When Hux looked down, Kylo wasn’t looking forward but up, intent on Hux’s face. “Maybe the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Oh,” Hux responded, suddenly self-conscious. “Oh.. _ahhh,”_ he groaned as Kylo licked a long stripe along the shaft of his cock, then took the head of it in his mouth and sucked.

Kylo had always been maddeningly talented at this, and Hux had imagined having Kylo’s mouth around him at least a hundred times in the last few months. What he hadn’t considered, however, was the fact that Kylo would remember exactly how he liked this—the way it made Hux shiver to have a tongue pressed hard against his frenulum and lick gently through his slit.

Kylo had slid his hands around to palm Hux’s ass, to hold him in place in a way that spread Hux’s cheeks open and made him feel erotically exposed, and Kylo didn’t need those hands to envelop the entirety of Hux’s length because Kylo could take him all. Hux had almost forgotten the way it felt to have Kylo’s throat muscles work around his shaft, and the way it lit him on fire to see Kylo’s face pressed into the ginger curls at the base of his prick.

Hux could manage nothing but to stand there and try not to allow his knees to buckle; his legs were shaking dangerously after only a handful of minutes, and he had to rake both hands back through Kylo’s hair and cling to him to keep his balance.

“Kylo,” he rasped, twitching when Kylo moved a hand to fondle Hux’s heavy balls. “I’m going to come. After that I’m going to…” Hux hissed, tugged at Kylo’s hair when Kylo hummed around him. “...not be able to stand up.”

Kylo looked up at him, and Hux had to squeeze his eyes shut at that or he _would_ come. He risked a glance at Kylo’s bed, knees shaking. “Should we...move this to the bed, maybe?” He still wasn’t sure if this was going to lead that far, but he was too aroused to keep the suggestion in.

Kylo drew his mouth off Hux’s over-sensitive cock slowly, suckling at the head one last time before letting him go. Kylo’s eyes followed Hux’s gaze to the bed as well, then glanced back up at Hux.

“We’re covered in paint,” he said. “And those are new sheets.”

“Oh,” Hux said, wilting. He stood there awkwardly for a brief moment before Kylo’s fingers wound into the bottom hem of Hux’s shirt and tugged.

“Come here. On the floor.”

Kylo reached into his back pocket and removed the remaining paintbrush before throwing it to the side. He lay back, not seeming to care that the back of his shirt was now against the paint-splattered drop cloth, or that a mixture of colors now graced his dark hair. He tugged once more on Hux’s shirt and then Hux surrendered, his body falling naturally until he was caught up in the strength of Kylo’s arms, the solidity of his body a reassuring presence.

“Hold on.” Hux turned over to his side, then shucked off his shoes. He followed it by pulling off his jeans and underwear, dragging his socks along with them. The awkward movements and his half-naked state should have made him feel entirely self-conscious, but the near-feral look in Kylo’s eyes filled him with a sudden rush of empowerment.

Kylo bit his lower lip, already swollen and wet from having worked their way up and down Hux’s prick. Still, he couldn’t prevent a moan from escaping as Hux slowly shimmied out of his shirt, the cotton material—once unnaturally soft from wear, now at places stiff with paint and sweat—sliding from his skin and exposing its pale canvas with nothing left to protect him.

Hux straddled Kylo’s thighs and then lowered his ass until he was seated over Kylo’s denim-clad cock, its length snuggling deliciously in the cleft of his buttocks.

“Fuck.” Kylo gripped Hux’s sides and canted his hips, letting out a long hiss as he rubbed against him. “Oh God. Fuck.” He reached up and rubbed one of Hux’s nipples between his forefinger and thumb, a possessive smile transforming his features as the pink nub hardened and pebbled.

Hux’s breath caught at the touch, and then he exhaled with a low whine as Kylo pinched his nipple gently. Hux was so hard he _hurt_ , and he had no idea how he was going to make it through much more touching without losing his control and ending all of this too soon.

He reached up and caught Kylo’s hand where his thumb was now circling the other nipple, coaxing it to hardness. Hux pulled Kylo’s hand up to his own lips to kiss the paint-stained fingers, then turned his hand over to press a kiss to the tattoo on the inside of Kylo’s wrist. Kylo looked up at him with a soft gaze, his free hand sliding gently along Hux’s thigh.

“I should get this same tattoo,” Hux murmured, pressing his lips to it again. The flame of hope for them grew in his chest, and he decided to take a chance with it. “Or maybe one like it, but with the day we found our way back to each other.” He hesitated, then forged onward. “If we want to stay together, that is. I mean...I do. That’s what I want.” He had to draw a deep breath to finish. “I love you, and I’m always going to, so it...would be easier for me if I could...just keep you.” Hux bit the inside of his bottom lip, feeling slightly foolish and anxious at the same time. He’d rehearsed something like this for weeks now—an impassioned plea for permanence between them, and it hadn’t once sounded so jumbled in his head.

“Hux.” Kylo cupped his chin gently and pinned him with his honest gaze. “That’s what I’ve wanted, too. Even when we were apart, when I said we needed to take things slowly. It was the thought that I could have you in my life again, only to lose you once more, that made me hesitate.” His voice grew choked, and he replaced his hand so it covered Hux’s, over the sweep and curve of the inky symbols that proclaimed his love of Hux, of _them,_ on his skin. “I don’t think there’s a day that’s gone by where I haven’t thought of you. My friends have asked why I never looked to get rid of the tattoo, thinking it was false hope. But it wasn’t that. It wouldn’t have mattered, because I can’t get rid of what’s here,” he concluded, moving their hands and placing it over his heart.

With that declaration, Hux knew that although he’d like to get matching tattoos, he didn’t _need_ it to remind himself of the permanence and dedication of Kylo’s affection. That now they were in a place to be secure enough to be vulnerable, and strong enough to catch each other should they fall.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” he declared, pulling at Kylo’s shirt. Kylo let out a moan as Hux squirmed, his ass riding the line of Kylo’s dick. The sound shot through Hux, making him feel empowered even as his cock ached. “I need you inside me,” he hissed, rolling his hips and nearly whimpering as Kylo keened. “Need your cock inside of me. Now.”

Hux nearly fell as Kylo rushed to open his jeans, his normally steady fingers fumbling with the fasteners. “Wait,” Hux laughed, He stilled Kylo’s hands, then drew Kylo’s t-shirt up slowly towards his shoulders. His eyes raked greedily over the the definition of Kylo’s stomach, lingering on his pointed, dusky nipples, and the breadth of his chest and arms. “Much better,” he declared as he pulled the shirt up and off.

“Mmmm.” Kylo pulled their bodies together. The feel of skin on skin and the rub of Hux’s prick against the heat of Kylo’s flesh made Hux groan. He ground down as Kylo’s squeezed his ass, the thick, long shape of Kylo’s erection and the pressure of Kylo’s wandering finger reminding him that no matter how needy he was in this moment, it had been too long since his body was prepped for something like this.

“Lube?” Hux gasped. His eyes flicked around, squinting in the dimming light and landing on the easel.

Kylo let out a low laugh as he followed the direction of Hux’s gaze. “As much as I love the idea, I don’t think paint would be a good substitute.”

“Still in the nightstand table?” Hux asked. There was an inexplicable sense of relief as Kylo nodded. “Good. I’ll go and get it then.” He bent over and leaned towards Kylo, his mouth curling into a smile as he held back a kiss. “Be a good boy for me and finish undressing,” he murmured playfully, barely brushing Kylo’s lips.

Hux made a move to draw back, but Kylo’s hand wrapped around the back of his neck and pulled him in for a deep kiss. “Hurry up,” he said, hot against Hux's lips.

Hux’s stomach flipped and he felt his cock twitch against Kylo’s belly. He pulled away reluctantly, finding his knees still weak and legs wobbly as he stood. He wrenched his eyes away from Kylo, or he would have stayed mesmerized by the sight of him lifting his hips from the floor to push his jeans down over those thick, long thighs.

It felt like being a teenager, excited and anxious about his first time as Hux walked naked across the room to Kylo’s nightstand. The air was cool on his skin, the lights from the city dappling the floor and the bed in myriad colors. It brought up an intense memory of how comfortable he used to be in this loft—of how he’d walked naked across this same floor a hundred times, coming back from the kitchen or the restroom or a tryst with Kylo on the well-worn couch to slide into bed with his lover, where everything was comfortable and safe.

Hux was shivering with unspent energy and overwhelmed with swirling feelings as he approached the nightstand. Dominant among these feelings at the moment was lust, but it was only made so by the fact that Kylo still loved him, and that he hadn’t said no when Hux asked for all of this back: the closeness, the sex, the comfort, their future.

His fingers were trembling when he pulled the nightstand drawer open by its wrought-iron handle. There was a bottle of lube just where Kylo had always kept it, and Hux grabbed it. He eyed the gold foil wrappers of the few condoms scattered inside as well, almost shutting the drawer without taking one, but deciding he’d let Kylo make that choice.

He shut the drawer too heavily in his inflamed state, and a picture frame on the nightstand wobbled and almost slid off the side. It hadn’t been placed fully on the table to begin with, Hux saw, the bottom edge suspended a good three inches over the floor, like Kylo had been lying in bed looking at it and had set it aside blindly before falling asleep.

Hux touched it with his free hand to shift it safely back, and when he did, he couldn’t help seeing the photograph inside. Although it was nearly dark in the room now, the scene was unmistakable. It was a picture of the two of them, Kylo and Hux, on that night two years, two months, and twenty-eight days ago when they’d first met. He had no idea who’d taken it, or how Kylo had come across it, but there they were in the middle of that crowd at Phasma’s party, surrounded by people but with eyes only for each other. Kylo had on that atrocious llama shirt; Hux wore a smile that had always only ever belonged to Kylo.

Hux’s eyes pricked with tears, but they weren’t sad ones. Not this time. Then he almost laughed at himself because he was trapped in this memory while clutching lube and condoms to his naked chest.

He turned back to where he’d left Kylo, crossing the room again. Some of the urgency had drained out of him, replaced by something languid and calm that told him he didn’t have to rush, because there would be a next time, and a time after that.

Kylo was on his knees on the drop cloth, facing away, and Hux’s steps faltered briefly as he took in the silhouette of Kylo’s naked body—broad shoulders, tapered waist, firm ass. Kylo himself was art, perfect, and Hux knew he would never achieve anything better in his own life than being with this man.

Like he’d heard Hux’s thoughts, Kylo turned to look over his shoulder. When he did, Hux realized that Kylo had been looking at the painting they’d done together, which was draped in a beam of bright light shining through the window from the building across the street.

Kylo didn’t say anything about it, but he didn’t need to. Instead, he shuffled forward on his knees to meet Hux, catching Hux’s calves with both huge hands and sliding them up his legs. He paused at the crooks of Hux’s knees, nuzzling his cheek against the crease between Hux’s thigh and his cock.

“I missed you,” Hux heard him say softly.

“I was only gone a minute,” Hux replied, stroking his hand through Kylo’s hair gently.

“It was too long,” Kylo answered, squeezing the backs of Hux’s thighs and pulling, message clear.

Hux eased himself back on to the drop cloth, feeling his knee settle in some ambiguous color of paint that was still wet, but not caring. Kylo took the lube out of Hux’s hand and set it beside him, then took the condom from between Hux’s fingers.

“I don’t need this,” he said. “Do you?”

Hux shook his head, huffing a small laugh as Kylo flicked the wrapper away, out of sight.

The hand that was on Hux’s waist guided them closer, Hux following Kylo’s lead willingly until he was straddling Kylo’s lap.

“Lay back,” Kylo said as he supported Hux’s weight, both hands encircling his waist as Hux lay down. It left his legs linked over Kylo’s thighs and spread open, and Hux gasped softly as Kylo brushed his short fingernails over Hux’s balls, making them draw up against his body. Kylo rubbed Hux’s perineum in a slow circle with the just the right pressure, just the way that Hux liked it.

“I love how soft you are here,” Kylo said, smiling as he stroked the skin at the crease of Hux’s thighs and rolled Hux’s balls between his fingers.

Hux’s cheeks heated, because he knew Kylo liked the fact that he kept himself smooth there, and he’d gotten back into the habit of that bit of grooming for precisely this sort of situation.

Kylo saved him from having to think of an alluring response by reaching to his side and picking up the lube, coating his hand with it and rubbing it into his palm to heat. Without preamble, he moved his hand back between Hux’s legs and found Hux’s entrance.

Hux flinched—not from pain, but from the shock of sensitive nerve endings that hadn’t felt a touch like this for so long. Kylo paused, watching him, and Hux told him that he was okay silently by arching his hips.

Kylo’s finger began to move again, the rough pad of it softened by the slick lubricant. He traced Hux’s rim, testing how tight he was every so often, taking his time until Hux began to relax. Then Hux felt him guide his finger inside.

Hux relished how _thick_ Kylo’s fingers were, how long, and Hux exhaled a shuddering breath as Kylo slid it all the way inside. It took Kylo all of two seconds to find his prostate, stroking it lightly only once, long enough to see Hux shudder and flush all the way to his chest—like Kylo just wanted to prove he still knew where to touch him.

“Show off,” Hux muttered, draping his arm over his eyes and hiding the top half of his burning face in the crook of his elbow. He heard Kylo’s soft laugh, then felt him draw that finger out. There was a second’s pause and the sound of the lube being set back on the floor, and then two fingers pressed at his rim, coaxing him open further until Kylo slid both inside.

Hux had shoved it to the back of his mind, the memory of how good Kylo was at this. He’d fingered Hux to orgasm quite a few times, slowly and methodically like this, making Hux tremble around him. Hux could feel a smear of sticky fluid on his own belly, and felt the tight, hot tension in his gut that would spill over very quickly into climax if Kylo went on this way too much longer.

Hux writhed, moving his arm away from his eyes and reached down with that hand, beckoning.  “Come here,” he said.

Kylo raised his eyebrows as though to say ‘Are you sure you’re ready?’ but he obeyed, pulling out of Hux. Hux moved his legs so Kylo was free to crawl up along Hux’s body until Hux could get a hand in Kylo’s hair to pull their mouths together.

“I’m planning,” Hux said between slow, soft kisses, “to take a week off work to do nothing but this.”

Kylo vibrated with laughter, and moved his head to nuzzle along Hux’s jaw. Kylo nipped his ear and said, “Is that all the vacation you have stored up?”

Hux laughed, stroking his hand down Kylo’s back, feeling the strength in the muscles as Kylo braced himself above. “You think we’ll need longer than that?” Hux asked, spreading his hand over Kylo’s left ass cheek, squeezing, the tips of his fingers sliding down into Kylo’s cleft.

He felt Kylo shudder then, dropping his hips to rut his cock against Hux’s, and Hux groaned at the friction.

“We’ll need a lifetime,” Kylo murmured in Hux’s ear.

The words, while spoken about fulfilling sexual desire, nevertheless made tears prick Hux’s eyes, and he buried his face in Kylo’s neck, swallowing around a sudden lump in his throat.

“On your back,” he told Kylo when he could trust his voice not to break.

Kylo made a familiar noise that Hux recognized as approval, and it made his stomach knot up as Kylo moved, shifting down Hux’s body to pepper kisses across his skin, all the way to his belly before he rolled away to the floor alongside Hux.

Hux went with him, straddling his hips before they’d lost physical contact for more than a moment. He reached out for the lube and poured some into his hand. Kylo looked at him quizzically until Hux reached behind himself with that same hand to finish working himself open.

Before the wounded look could fully form on Kylo’s face, Hux said, “You’re too good at this. A clinical approach is necessary so I don’t come before I even get you inside me.”

Kylo tilted his head back, laughing, and when their eyes met again, Kylo’s were sparkling. “And you said my sense of humor was bad.” He squeezed both of Hux’s thighs with his huge hands in emphasis, and Hux smiled down at him.

“It is. But luckily you make up for it with a long list of good qualities.”

Kylo bit his bottom lip, the pleased, boyish expression yet another familiar thing that Hux thought he’d lost forever. Hux wanted to find all of these little details—looks and sounds and smells and touches—and reawaken them in his memory, like turning the lights back on in a house that had been empty for so long. His eyes grew misty again at the thought and he gritted his teeth, knowing that Kylo seeing him cry at this exact moment was not he message to send.

Instead, he drew his fingers out of himself, having worked three in, which he decided was enough. It probably wasn’t, not quite, but Hux was done waiting. Kylo seemed to sense that as well, and was already coating his own cock with a generous amount of lube as Hux lifted his hips, positioning himself. Kylo was watching him with lust-dark eyes, holding himself while Hux found the right angle and lowered himself onto Kylo’s hot prick.

Hux squeezed his eyes shut, mouth falling open as he took Kylo inch by inch, savoring the way he felt himself spreading open, the way Kylo filled him. His thighs trembled with the effort to move slowly, and Kylo wrapped his fingers around Hux’s hips, steadying him.

“Fuck, you feel good,” Hux heard Kylo say.

Hux meant to reply, to say the same thing, but all he managed was a breathless moan as Kylo’s hips twitched upward and pushed his cock the last few inches into Hux’s body.

“Shit, sorry,” Kylo murmured, shivering beneath Hux’s thighs.

Hux opened his eyes, feeling heavy-lidded. “Feels good,” he managed to say, rolling his hips gently to let Kylo’s prick stretch his hole just a little more.

Kylo’s hands on his hips were gripping him bruisingly hard now, but Hux didn’t care. He liked the way Kylo’s thumbs dug into the soft places above his hip-bones, loved the way the spread of those long fingers made him feel small and delicate and safe and like he _belonged_ to Kylo.

“I love your hands,” Hux said, splaying his own across Kylo’s heaving chest and lifting his hips again, just a few inches, before sliding back down on him.

Kylo made that small, pleased sound again, this time tinted with lust. “Would you cite my bad sense of humor if I said I love your ass?” Kylo pushed his hips up sharply, punching a yelp from Hux’s throat that was part moan, part laughter.

“I’d say,” Hux breathed, digging his nails into Kylo’s pectorals as he rocked back on his cock, “that you have good... _ahhh_...taste.”

“It does taste good, too,” Kylo added, belly constricting with barely contained laughter, and Hux turned his face away, trying not to laugh himself.

“Shut up,” Hux said. “This is serious business.”

“Oh, is it?” Kylo asked, the hands on Hux’s hips now pulling gently, a probably unconscious effort to change their pace.

“Mmm,” Hux answered, giving himself up to Kylo’s guidance, letting the press and pull of his hands start to rock Hux’s hips faster. Hux leaned back, finding the right balance on his knees so he could get Kylo deeper with every fall of his hips.

There were no more words, only the quickly accelerated breathing that seemed loud in the silent loft, the wet sound of Kylo’s cock sliding in and out of Hux’s body, the way their skin slapped together where the sweat of exertion formed between them. It came faster and more often as their pace grew almost frantic, Hux feeling like he couldn’t get Kylo deep enough despite the way Kylo lifted his hips to thrust inside him. Hux’s eyes were mostly closed, hazy and unfocused except for the motion of his own cock bouncing over Kylo’s belly, slapping against it once, twice, every little impact sending a burst of nerve-tingling pleasure to his groin. It was building there, that pleasure, hot and wound tight, and so, so good.

“Kylo,” he breathed, “I want to come like this. Make me come.” It came out pleading, needy, and Kylo knew what he meant. No one but Kylo had ever been able to bring him to orgasm almost untouched—that was _their_ thing, another thing Hux wanted to reclaim.

Kylo grunted, which Hux guessed was an acknowledgement when Kylo pulled Hux’s hips forward sharply, bent his own legs behind Hux, and thrust into him harder, the drag of his thick cock _exactly_ where Hux wanted it, exactly _how_ he wanted it, harder and faster until all the tight pleasure that had built inside him started to unspool. He felt it in his gut first, everything going liquid warm inside, the heat spreading between his legs and down his inner thighs, and he felt his cock twitch, heard the low keen that forced itself past his lips until Kylo brushed one single finger along the side of Hux’s prick.

Hux came so hard he stopped breathing, clenching around Kylo and feeling his own skin flush like fire, feeling dimly that his nails were digging into his own thighs. It felt like long minutes while he shook silently, vision dark and sparking, but it could only have been seconds, and then the air finally left his lungs in a deep, broken sob.

It didn’t stop. Hux shuddered, his shoulders and hands quivering, and he felt tears hot on his cheeks. He kept his eyes squeezed shut, holding his breath, trying to pull himself together, but then Kylo’s hands were on his biceps, tugging him down until they were pressed together. Hux felt Kylo’s hand cradling his head, the other stroking the lines of his quivering back, and he was whispering something against Hux’s ear that took him a long moment to finally understand.

“It’s okay.” The words were a soft breath against his skin, tickling his damp hair. “I love you.”

That tugged a new, muffled sob out of Hux’s chest, and he could finally place the feeling. Not sadness, but relief. The kind of relief that felt like being pulled back from the edge of a cliff after being afraid of falling into the darkness for too long. It wasn’t gratitude for the sexual release, but for the forgiveness—because he knew Kylo, and if that wasn’t real, they wouldn’t be here, together like this.

Hux gradually stopped shaking and found purchase on the floor with one hand and Kylo’s shoulder with the other. He managed to peel himself away, lift himself up enough to look at Kylo. He felt Kylo’s cock, soft now, slip out of him as he moved, and a spark of guilt shot through him until he felt the wet, hot slide of come follow.

They stared at each other for a moment, Kylo’s eyes searching Hux’s with something more like compassion than concern, and Kylo didn’t ask any questions, not yet. Didn’t ask Hux to explain himself, and Hux was grateful, because it would be a long time before he could ever put words to the way he felt. Instead, he dipped his head and touched his nose to Kylo’s, nuzzling along the side of it until he found Kylo’s lips. Then he kissed him, and didn’t stop.

 


	8. Epilogue

It’s always automatic—a sort of Pavlovian response to the way the sunlight filters through the room with just the right amount and warmth, mixed with the exact frequency and volume of noise from the street, that rouses Hux from sleep. He cracks open an eye, his right arm flinging out to shut off his phone alarm that’s ready to blare at any moment before he remembers that it’s Saturday, and that he has the day off.

The phone screen lights up anyway, and he glances at it from a suboptimal angle, squinting a bit as he reads. It’s a message from Phasma—nothing hospital related, thankfully. Just a reminder that they have 12:30 reservations for brunch. Hux smiles as he thinks of Phasma and Sam; despite the size difference, their fierceness is equally matched, and Phasma insists (for real, this time) that Sam is actually _the one._

He replaces the phone back on the nightstand, careful to position it just so. The top of the stand is neat, but hardly empty. His writing notebook occupies the top left corner, the product of the sketches and notes that he’s scribbled over the past two years now nearing completion. A miniature meditation rock inscribed with an inspirational quote sits beside it. It was a gift from Colleen (corny, perhaps, and definitely clichéd), but it’s appropriate in its meaning and reminds him of Kylo. There’s also an assortment of photos encased in an array of handmade and flea-market-bought frames. Hux has never been one for traditional photos when digital ones are just as easily available, but Kylo insists that there’s something about the ability to capture the emotions and textures and rawness of the traditional image that can’t be replaced.

Looking at the display, Hux would be hard-pressed to argue. The scenes jump, their context turning three-dimensional with the added weight of their history. Not just of the history of the image itself, he thinks fondly as he casts one last glance at what is still his favorite. The picture of them at Phasma’s Christmas party is slightly faded from the sun, but he can make out the small divot and uneven patch that sits to the left of his face. It’s as if someone had taken the picture out and rubbed their fingers softly over his likeness; that the memory of Hux’s hair, his skin, his smile, could come rushing back with just a touch.

Hux leans back and turns to his side as quietly as he can, but the mattress dips anyway, accompanied by the sound of a stuttered breath as strong arms wrap around his waist.

“Morning, babe.” The words leave Kylo’s mouth before he’s even fully awake, borne by love and habit. His long legs shift and slide alongside Hux’s slimmer ones as his eyes slowly open, their golden-brown color framed by lashes that are still wet and lazy with sleep.

It’s followed quickly by the quirking of Kylo’s lips into a brilliant smile. Hux’s heart lurches at how beautiful and transparent it is. It makes him want to bury himself in Kylo’s hair. To inhale his scent. To fuse himself with his brightness.

“Morning,” Hux replies as he presses forward. He smirks as he feels the undeniable and unmistakable length of morning wood. “Good morning, indeed.”

Kylo huffs out a laugh and lumbers over him. He leans in for a kiss, and there’s a brief second where Hux hesitates, to which Kylo responds with a knowing lift of his brow. Hux fights the urge to revisit what he ate last night, or to run his tongue over the inside of his mouth experimentally, then thinks, _Fuck morning breath._ It’s Kylo—the person who loves him with all his flaws. Besides, their mouths have been in places much worse than this.

“I know a way a ‘good morning’ can get even better,” Kylo says mischievously. He positions himself so his cock is sliding over Hux’s soft one, which begins to fill with embarrassing speed. Soon, he’s as hard as Kylo, and he rolls his hips in a silent demand that Kylo answers, to Hux’s great relief.

“Yes. Just like that,” Hux murmurs as Kylo wraps his hand around both their pricks and starts to stroke in a lazy and familiar manner.

Hux lets the feelings wash over him. He’s not in a rush to come, relishing the steady friction, the slide of their velvety skin against one another, and Kylo’s soft grunts as his hand begins to speed. He nuzzles further into Kylo’s warmth, inhaling the scent that lingers in the crook of his neck even as his legs straighten and his toes start to curl. The heat builds steadily at the base of his spine, spreading through his groin and mingling with the sunlight that’s painting his skin until it spills out into Kylo’s hands, coating them in his release.

Kylo follows soon after, his strokes growing stilted as his head tilts back and he lets out a low groan. “God,” Kylo exhales loudly as his arm falls to his side and he flops onto his back. “That was perfect.”

“Indeed.” They lie there for a moment in peaceable silence. Hux inches his hand over, their fingers interlocking until Kylo eventually turns over and grins.

“Shower?” he asks, waggling his brow. He’s already bursting with irrepressible energy. Perhaps it’s the fact that he still gets up for his early morning runs, or that he can be awoken at any moment by a burst of creative energy, but it never fails to amaze Hux, the excitement with which Kylo greets each day.

“In a bit,” Hux answers with an exaggerated yawn. He snuggles back against the sheets and allows himself the indulgence of doing _nothing._

“Okay. I’ll start, then. Don’t keep me waiting too long.” Hux watches appreciatively as Kylo climbs out of bed and stretches, the muscles in his back rippling as his buttocks flex. His gaze must have been burning a hole with its heated focus because Kylo turns, wiggling his ass enticingly as he throws Hux an expression that’s both cheeky and lewd.

“Don’t worry, I won’t,” Hux laughs. He has no intention to. There’s just something he needs to do, first.

He waits until he hears the shower running to scurry out of bed, tripping over the shoes that Kylo’s left on the floor. Hux picks them up absentmindedly and heads over to the walk-in closet. It’s decadently spacious, and one of the things that was firmly implanted on Hux’s must-have list when they were apartment hunting. It took them a while to find the right place. Relatively affordable, conveniently located, and stacked with enough amenities to be comfortable while filled with an abundance of light and space was nothing short of a Holy Grail in New York, according to their realtor (who subsequently earned every penny of her commission). It might lack the overtly domestic cheerfulness of Finn and Rey’s place (and, thankfully, the aseptic modernity of Hux's last one) but it’s theirs.

And it’s perfect.

The mildly out-of-tune lyrics that drift over from the bathroom suddenly stop.

“Babe? Don’t forget, we’re meeting Mom and Dad at Blue Hill tonight.”

“How could I?” Hux yells back. It’s practically all he’s thought about for the past week. Their friends have commented more than once that Kylo’s never introduced his parents to any of his significant others since high school.

His musings likely last a bit too long. “Hux? Don’t worry. They’ll love you.”

“Only because they think I’ve made an honest man of you,” Hux starts, his face coloring as he realizes what he’s said.

There’s a muffled laugh followed by a large splash. “Yup. Looks like you’re stuck with me forever.” There’s a teasing lilt to Kylo's tone, but it’s also filled with something else. Something that fills Hux with hope. “You coming in anytime soon, by the way, or are you going to make me beg?”

“Just a sec.” Hux places Kylo’s shoes in their cubby, then opens his dresser to select his clothes for the day. He hooks a well-worn t-shirt over his arm, then blindly reaches into the corner until his fingers close over what he’s looking for.

A slight nervousness overtakes him. There was a time, not too long ago, when the idea of burying things was problematic and self-defeating. He’s learned the value of sharing and vulnerability since then, and in this case, he thinks Kylo will forgive him.

The lid to the small velvet box pops open with a small click. A platinum ring sits inside; the outer surface of the brushed metal lies perfectly smooth, the beginning and end entwined. The inside is inscribed with those four Khmer symbols that Hux can see, even with his eyes closed. Despite the passage of time, they never fail to make his heart speed, and the thought of them laying against Kylo’s skin—of what they mean, of what they’ve overcome, of what they symbolize—nearly makes him weep.

He doesn’t think that will ever change. Not a year from now, or ten, or a lifetime later.

He rummages around once more to pull out the accompanying card. He heads over to the bathroom door and takes a deep breath. It’s plain stock, and measures only three by five inches, but its words are forever ingrained in his heart:

 

**_Will you marry me?_ **

**_Check yes, or no_ **

 

_ ~Fin~_

**Author's Note:**

>  **A/N: ******  
> kyluxtrashcompactor:  
>  What an incredible experience! There's something so special about sharing the love for a story and the characters with someone, but even more so when it's a creation born of two hearts and two minds. There were some rough patches to get through working on this, and it was a long journey (but not quite as long as these poor boys!), but in the end I'm more grateful for my friend Lisa than anything else I've gained from the process of bringing this story to life.
> 
> I can't ever say enough about Katie (Pangolinpirate), who is a ray of sunshine that gave each chapter a whole new energy and life (and who is also just really dang awesome). I'm also incredibly grateful to the encouraging, kind folks that were the wind in our sails for months, and whose messages made me smile and remember how much I loved these boys and wanted to give them their happy ending. Thanks for coming on this journey with us. ---1 thousand crying emojis---
> 
> PalenDrome (nerdherderette):  
> This was honestly a true labor of love. It started out with the love a beautiful prompt, that just had my imagination spinning. And then i was so lucky that kyluxtrashcompactor got caught up in the whirlwind, because this seedling bloomed into something fantastic. We really poured our hearts out into this fic, and wanted to create something that was real and honest and hopeful. It was an incredible experience, and I’ll always treasure working with you, Jules.
> 
> Pangolinpirate, you were just the best, joining us for this collaboration! You jumped right in to help, and your art and support mean more than I can say. And thanks to all the other artists whose works also appear here and bring the scenes to life. And thanks, most of all, to all the readers who’ve followed and kudosed and commented, and been so patient with us, and stayed through the end of the ride. We hope it’s been worth it! <333
> 
>  
> 
> Additional info:  
> Khmer numerals at the head of each chapter: 1214
> 
> Many thanks to these incredible artists:  
> [@pangolinpirate](http://archiveofourown.org/users/PangolinPirate/pseuds/PangolinPirate) Chapters 2, 3, 4, 5, 6  
> [@mad1492](http://mad1492.tumblr.com/) Chapters 3, 5  
> [cynderiOpus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cynderiaOpus) Chapter 4  
> [noxogoth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NOXOGOTH/pseuds/NOXOGOTH) Chapter 7
> 
> Come say "hi" on Tumblr! [kyluxtrashcompactor](http://kyluxtrashcompactor.tumblr.com/) and [nerdherderette](http://nerdherderette.tumblr.com/)


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